Daedra, Kings and Dragons ((Discontinued))
by robhumph
Summary: 200 years after the Oblivion Crisis several of the Princes of the Daedra decide to try once again to assert themselves in the Mortal Plane. But having been, for the most part, locked out of Tamriel by Dagon's bravado they look East, to the twin continents of Westeros and Essos. Contains OCs and characters from the Elder Scrolls series.
1. A meeting and the first arrival

**Welcome to this Elder Scrolls/Game of Thrones crossover, hope you enjoy it.  
This is set a few years after the events of Skyrim so the Civil War is over and the Second Great War has already been fought.  
This fic will include several OCs as the various Champions of the Daedric Princes involved and the Dragonborn will show up at some point but to begin with it's focused on one particular OC.**

 **(spelling errors I saw fixed and cleaned up some bits regarding Mephala)**

* * *

 _Morndas 6th Last Seed, 207 Fourth Era.  
Sanguine's Plane of Oblvivion_

Sanguine paced around the meeting room of his brothers and sisters. It had long ago been decided that the Prince of Pleasure and Debauchery would host any family wide meetings the different Daedric Princes would ever have, mainly because he had no actual ambition outside of having a good time. He glanced over at the only other Prince to have arrived yet, Hircine. "Is Bal still in that alter of his?"

"That's what Boethiah last told me." The deer headed Prince of the Hunt shrugged.

Sanguine sighed in relief. "Good, he always ruins the fun wherever he goes." He sat in his seat at the table, by far the most extravagant one. Hircine was sitting in his delicately carved wooden chair next to him. "You remember when he tried to rope us into his scheme to invade Tamriel?"

Hircine sighed and nodded. "Probably gave Dagon the idea in the first place, probably had plans to do something to Dagon if he succeeded."

"With luck he'll stay in that alter Boethiah stuck him in." Sanguine's statement brought a nod of agreement from Hircine. Both looked up as the outrageously decorated doors of the room opened and Meridia and Azura entered, they were idly chatting about recent events in Skyrim. Sanguine grinned and stood. "Ah sweet sisters, glad you could make it."

Meridia and Azura stopped their conversation and looked at their two brothers. "Of course I could make it." Meridia snapped. "I thought up the idea of these meetings." Sanguine chuckled and sat down again as Meridia sat down in her white stone throne and Azura in her grey stone throne, they nearly completed the set. "Still waiting for most of our siblings I see."

"Sheogorath can't make it, still on his holiday." Hircine spoke up. "And Jyggalag won't be coming, having some fun in Bal's plane while he's stuck in that alter."

Sanguine chuckled at the news. "Yes our dear nephew does love his holidays."

"Surprised you haven't visited him there yet, Sanguine." Azura stated lazily as she looked around the chamber.

Sanguine waved his hand dismissively. "His parties aren't to my tastes, too much talk, not enough wine."

The door opened again drawing the attention of the four already present. A faint blue mist covered the floor and Nocturnal glided in, her face passive. "Brothers, sisters." She nodded to the four before getting to her own black stone throne next to Azura, the Princes of day, dawn and night were together as usual. "I bring news from Peryite, he's gotten roped into Jyggalag's scheme for Bal's plane." The rest of the room nodded, this was expected given their similar interests.

Before the door closed Mephala quickly jogged in, currently in her more human form. "Ah good. I'm not late." She trotted over to her Akiviri style chair. "Vile's still stuck in his shrine, apparently his dog has gone missing." Sanguine again chuckled, joined by Hircine.

The door again opened and Mora's hideous form lingered in the opening. "I apologise dear siblings. But I have something to research. I trust you can cope without me?"

Sanguine sighed slightly and used his command over his realm to prop the door open, no sense in it constantly closing. "We'll manage dear brother."

Mora's eye nodded slightly and he turned, getting a few metres before seemingly remembering something. "Oh, our sweet sister Namira is still occupied in the Reach of Skyrim. She has no interest in the purpose of this meeting." His eye nodded again and his form floated off.

"So many of our siblings are occupied." Azura noted. "Dagon really ruined any semblance of family didn't he?"

Hircine nodded slightly. "That's why he wasn't invited, sister of dawn and dusk. I doubt Vaermina will come either, not after the loss of her temple."

"That just leaves Boethiah." No sooner had Nocturnal said the words than Boethiah entered through the now open doors. "And here's our sweet sister."

The Daedric Prince of sedition and treachery smirked. "So I'm the last to arrive, fitting." She made her way to her chair decorated with a vague squid pattern. "I'm sure most of you have been made aware already but my acolytes have managed to trap Molag Bal in his shrine in Skyrim, though my acolyte has recently gone missing."

Sanguine sighed in relief again and glanced around the nearly half empty table, so few had come. Standing he cleared his throat. "Brothers and Sisters." The Daedric Princes all looked at him, as he was their host. "Ever since our idiot brother tried to break into the realm of Tamriel we have been locked off from it and our powers have, for the most part, diminished." There were murmurs of agreement from around the table. "Now our dear sister Meridia has found the perfect place for us to regain our strength and use our influence." He sat back down in his chair to give the room to Meridia.

Meridia stood. "That's the other reason Dagon was not invited here. I doubt we want him screwing up over there as well after we've waited two centuries to do anything again." A round of nods from the princes gathered. "So, here is what I propose." She looked at Sanguine who snapped his fingers, summoning a map of Tamriel. "We all know this is Tamriel, and I'm sure some of you know of Westeros and Essos all the way over here." Again Sanguine snapped his fingers and the map changed to a view of the twin continents. "I know we've never made our influence known over there but Dagon didn't get us banned from there either. So I propose we each send a champion there to spread our influence."

Azura laced her fingers. "Ah, excellent. I already have a champion I'd like to send. Are we to make our own arrangements?"

"That is the plan, our champions will likely be competing at times." Meridia explained. "The mortals of Tamriel have repeatedly attempted to cross the sea, and only a few have ever returned."

Mephala leaned forward. "So it's by Sea our Champions will arrive? Are we forgetting some of us have the power of teleportation still in the mortal Plane?" She glanced pointedly at Sanguine. "We of course accept that the Aedra are likely to send champions of their own when we make ourselves known." She rested her chin on her hands which were laced together in front of her. "And we all know who they'll send first."

Boethiah scowled. "Yes we know they'll send the accursed Dragonborn. But..." The Prince of treachery paused slightly. "He will not be able to stop all our champions, Westeros is just as big as Tamriel and they do not know of magic."

"It is of no consequence for now. Our efforts in Skyrim have not withered from the descendant of our cousin's presence." Meridia stated firmly as she sat back down in her throne. "Choose your champions and send them over."

The rest of the Princes nodded and Hircine looked at the Prince of Decadence. "Will you be sending a Champion too brother?"

Sanguine grinned and shook his horned head. "Unlike Tamriel the whore house trade is ripe in Westeros, I have no need of Champions from Tamriel." To that Hircine could only chuckle and nod in reply.

"Then this meeting is done brothers and sisters." Meridia announced and as one the Princes all stood before trickling out of the ornate room. Soon only Sanguine and Hircine remained.

"I'm lead to believe you engaged one of my champions in one your drinking contests?" Hircine asked as he cocked his head.

Sanguine laughed. "Oh yes that reminds me, I have to meet him in the wine garden." The prince of Decadence stood. "I have to hand it to the Nords, they sure know how to hold their liquor and hunt at the same time."

Hircine chuckled. "Since you're meeting with one of the two I'm intending to send. I don't suppose you could teleport him over once you're done drinking him under the table?"

"Hmm, now there's an idea." Sanguine scratched his red chin. "It might be interesting to send him over before the others get a chance to get there. All right I'll do it, but only if you come to my next party, you've missed the last five."

Hircine sighed and chuckled in quick succession. "Deal." The Prince of the Hunt held out his hand.

Sanguine shook it and snapped his fingers, sending Hircine back to his own realm. "Now, I have a wine garden to get to." He snapped his fingers again to send him to his more peaceful area of the realm.

* * *

 _The North, Westeros._

A speck of ethereal light appeared on the moors outside of Winterfell. Over the course of several minutes the speck widened into a large orb of swirling purple and white big enough to admit a fully laden cart. The portal gave off a white flash and a man flew out of it with a yelp, crashing onto the cold hardened ground in front of it. As soon and the man hit the ground the portal caved in on itself and in mere seconds it vanished.

"Ugh, fuck you Sanguine." Eadric muttered as he rolled over and sat up. Looking around he saw nothing but endless expanses of grass moors and a long paved road that lead over a small hill. In the opposite direction of the hill was the beginnings of a large forest that even covered a small mountain further in it. The road however skirted around the forest and as Eadric looked closer he made out what looked like banners coming along the road.

Checking to make sure his weapons and armour had come with him through the portal just in case he had to use them he sighed with relief when he saw he still had his Chainmail on and the sword was still buckled at his side. Also checking to make sure his saex was on his belt and his axe was on his back he was surprised to find Sanguine had also teleported his Lute as well. "Got some plans for me yourself Sanguine?" He muttered to himself as the banner came closer, soon showing the people holding them though still too far away to make anything out.

As the train came closer it soon became clear it was very long and very near the front there was a carriage with Lion banners hanging off it. Leading the train were two men in intricately decorated white armour and large helmets. Ignoring the Nord as they rode past Eadric swore he saw a woman with golden hair glancing out of the small window on the carriage.

Behind the carriage came a large group of horsemen, all wearing the same red and black plate armour and carrying Lion banners of their own. Following up the rear of this group were an odd couple, a boy, no older than sixteen who radiated noble birth. He was the near complete opposite of the man escorting him, completely covered in black plate armour and wearing a fearsome helmet in the shape of a hound. Besides that the most obvious thing was his sheer size, he looked like he could match Eadric for height and Eadric was around seven feet tall, tall even for a Nord.

The Nord was still looking at the man with a hound helmet when the next group of the train passed by, again lead by two men in detailed white armour. The main difference this time however was that instead of a carriage there rode a very large man, in both height and girth who was flanked by two more men in the white armour. The fat one glanced down at Eadric and from the look in his eyes the Nord could tell he was sizing him up for a fight before he rode on.

"Don't worry, the King looks at most people like that." The voice coming from behind him caused Eadric to wheel around. In front of him on a horse sat another man in that white armour though this one didn't wear one of those helmets. His hair was golden, like the boy's who had rode past. "Jaime Lannister." He said with a nod. "You look like you know how to use that axe."

"Eadric Haraldsson." The Nord gave the standard Nordic greeting of placing his right fist over his chest. "So that was the King?"

Jaime grinned slightly and looked in the direction of the King. "Aye, that fat old man is our King." He looked back down at Eadric. "You haven't seen my brother have you? Short, blonde hair." Eadric just shook his head. "Ah well, think I know where he'll be. You heading to Winterfell as well or going South?"

"Winterfell?" Eadric looked confused for a moment, it only now hit him that Sanguine had told him next to nothing about this place and that he was supposed to do Hircine's will completely blind.

"How can you be this far North and not know about Winterfell?" Jaime asked as he crosses his arms

The Nord shrugged slightly and desperately thought up an excuse to be here. "I'm new to Westeros. Ship I was travelling on crashed off the coast and I've been wandering for days."

It didn't look as though he bought it but at the same time didn't look like he cared."Well you might as well join us on our way to Winterfell then. You're okay with walking right?" He asked with a grin before kicking his horse and speeding up to catch up with his place in the train. Sighing to himself Eadric followed, noting the laughs from the latest group of armoured riders as they rode down the road.

...

Eadric practised his axe swings in the courtyard of Winterfell, as he expected he wasn't allowed into the main hall for the feast, no one knew who he was. It didn't bother him though, he'd been to several big feasts in Whiterun after slaying a local Dragon issue and hadn't found them to his liking. Far too subdued compared to the feasts they had in Jorrvaskr and he doubted that anyone would dare start a fight with the King and the host present at the same time. Thinking of Jorrvaskr brought thoughts of Njada, his wife.

Swinging down on the straw dummy he'd been using as a target he imagined it with the face of the bastard who'd kidnapped her and held her ransom. The Skyforge Steel blade sliced the weak wooden pole holding it up and Eadric sighed. Every night he remembered cracking that Orcs skull open, every night he remembered carrying Njada back to Jorrvaskr as she tried desperately to convince him to let her walk. She was always hot-headed and stubborn, but then, then all he thought about was getting her back to Jorrvaskr safe. Now she was there while he was here, he'd be a father if he ever got back home.

"You all right?" A voice came from behind him, unmistakably a young voice, probably hadn't seen twenty winters.

Turning to look at the speaker, axe still in hand and breathing heavily, Eadric saw a young man. He had shoulder length black hair and the beginnings of a black beard. "I'm fine." Eadric was still wearing his Skyforge Chainmail, force of habit after spending so many nights out in the wilds of Skyrim where all manners of monsters and creatures could and would try to kill you in your sleep.

"I was going to use the dummy, but looks like you killed it." The boy pointed with a sword he was carrying to the decapitated training dummy.

Eadric chuckled and hefted the axe up, resting the long shaft on his shoulder. "Aye, I did. So who are you?"

The boy looked down at the ground. "Jon Snow, Ned Starks Bastard."

"So why isn't your name Jon Stark?"

Jon looked back up and him and narrowed his eyes. "You from Essos or something? You look like a Northman."

"I'm a Nord, from the North of my continent so aye, I'm a Northman." He didn't see the point in hiding it since someone was bound to figure it out at some point.

Jon slowly nodded. "Well in Westeros, bastards take a different name depending on where they were born. Since people don't know where I was born I was given the bastard name of the North, Snow."

"Where I'm from only a few clans have family names. I'm Eadric Haraldsson."

Jon held out his left hand, as his sword was in his right, and Eadric shook it. "Well since you destroyed the thing I was intending to destroy myself, fancy a spar?"

Eadric looked up at the dark night sky, thinking it over for a moment before looking back down. "All right lad, so long as you have another practise sword. Because you do _not_ want this in your side." He shook the axe resting on his shoulder slightly.

"Should be one over here." Jon muttered as he made his way over to a rack of weapons. "Ah, here you go." He picked one out and tossed it to the Nord, who caught it. "Should warn you, I can nearly match my father now."

"I don't know your father." The Nord swung around the sword, trying to get a grasp at its weight.

Jon chuckled. "Eddard Stark, lord of this castle and the Warden of the North." He adopted what Eadric guessed was the opening stance whoever had trained told him to use.

"Remember I'm a foreigner." Eadric stated a second before charging in, bringing his immense strength to bare on the boy who instead of trying to parry the strike backed up to the side. "And being a Lord." The Nord calmly explained as he swung the sword again at Jon who tried to parry the blow and was sent reeling back by the force behind it. "Doesn't grant fighting ability."

Jon recovered quickly and went on the attack, trying to thrust at the Nord who backed up quickly to avoid the sword. "He fought in the war against the Mad King, he's killed in battle."

The two combatants circled each other, waiting for the other to go on the attack again. "I haven't fought in a war, but I've killed in battle, probably more so." After a few more seconds it became clear that Jon was on the defensive so Eadric charged back in, swinging down hard. The bastard of the North rose his sword as he moved to the side and the blades caught each other sending shockwaves down both combatants arms and the force of the collision causing a small but noticeable notch to appear in Jon's blade.

Jon reacted quickly and circled the slower but larger Nord and quickly slashed at his back, to no noticeable effect on Eadric who gave up trying to move his sword to quickly counter the attack and instead swung his arm to try knocking the boy back. He forearm connected with Jons side and sent him reeling back several metres and both quickly recovered to begin circling each other again.

Before either could go on the offensive again a rider entered the courtyard, causing both to look up at the horseman. He was clad in all black and had long black hair as well as a black beard. "Uncle Benjen!" Jon called out as he broke off the spar to greet the man.

The rider dismounted and embraced Jon when they reached each other. "You got bigger. I rode all day, didn't want to leave your father alone with the Lannisters." Benjen glanced at Eadric and then back down to Jon. "Who's this, and why aren't you in the feast?"

"Lady Stark thought it would be an insult to the royal family to seat a bastard at the feast." Jon grimaced slightly but returned to a more passive face as he gestured to the Nord with his training sword. "This is Aedric."

"Eadric, not Aedric." The Nord corrected.

Benjen nodded to Eadric and turned back to Jon. "Well you're always welcome on the Wall. No bastard was ever refused a seat there."

"So take me with you when you go back."

Benjen shook his head slightly. "Jon..."

"Father will let me if you ask him, I know he will."

"The Wall isn't going anywhere." Benjen patted Jon on the shoulder.

"I'm ready to swear your oath." Jon insisted.

The older Stark sighed. "You don't understand what you'd be giving up. We have no families. None of us will ever father sons."

"I don't care about that."

Again Benjen sighed. "You might, if you knew what it meant. … I'd better get inside. Rescue your father from his guests. We'll talk later." Benjen patted Jon on the shoulder again and walked towards the slightly ajar door to the main hall, nodding slightly to Eadric as he walked past.

"Your Uncle's in the Nights Watch?" Both Eadric and Jon turned to see a short man walking out of the shadows, well, short would be an understatement, he was tiny. "And you're that Nord my brother told me about?" He asked gesturing to Eadric with the goblet in his hand.

"You know of Skyrim?"

The Imp nodded. "We have a few books on Tamriel in Casterly Rock, though I've never met one before."

Jon looked at Eadric for a moment but looked back at the Imp, crossing his arms. "You're Tyrion Lannister, the Queen's brother?"

"My greatest achievement." Tyrion said with a chuckle before drinking whatever was in his goblet. "You're Ned Starks bastard?" Jon glared at him. "Did I offend you? Sorry. You are a bastard though?"

Jon slowly nodded. "Lord Eddard Stark is my father."

"And Lady Stark is not your mother." He drank again. "Making you a bastard. Let me give you some advice, bastard. Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armour. Then it can never be used to hurt you."

"What the hell do you know about being a bastard?" Jon spat.

"All Dwarfs are bastard in their fathers eyes." Tyrion explained before going into the main hall himself.

Jon scowled and raised his sword again. "Come at me."

"He's right you know." Eadric stated as he raised his own sword before advancing slowly, working out what the boy was going to do.

Jon sighed. "I know. If father lets me." He swung his sword at the advancing Nord, who backed away from its reach. "I'll join the Watch, then it won't matter if I'm a bastard."

"What's this Watch you plan on joining?" Eadric asked as he advanced again, only to receive the same strike as before.

"The Nights Watch, guardians of the Wall, they keep the Wildlings out of the South." Jon began advancing himself tried a thrust at the large target the Nord presented, who quickly swatted aside the blade. "Those who join can't have wives, children or titles. You take the oath, you're there for good."

"Who built this wall they defend."

"Bran the builder, my ancestor. He built it eight thousand years ago at the end of the long night." Jon advanced again, their rather lax spar not escalating as they talked.

The Nord held his blade out in warning. "Eight Thousand..." He shook his head slightly. "History of Tamriel doesn't go back that far, not even the Elves talk of that long ago."

Jon stopped advancing and looked at him. "Elves? You mean like out of the stories?" He rested the swords tip on the ground.

"No. Actual Elves. Most of the legends of the Nords involves killing Elves... Or Dragons." The Nord explained as he rested the sword on his mailed shoulder, their spar seemingly over now.

"Oh, just Legends?"

Eadric scoffed. "Legends that are true. In Tamriel men fought the Elves to a standstill in the Imperial province three years ago." He chuckled at the stories the returning Soldiers had told him in the Bannered Mare, he hadn't fought in the war, too soon after Njada's kidnapping. "Captured the Elven bitch Queen herself in battle and forced her to surrender, then we executed every Elf who followed her and sent her home in little more than rags."

"Every one?" Jon looked wary, probably not believing it.

"Those bastards outlawed the worship of Talos and murdered anyone who even tried to worship him. They banned the god of men all because they were too high and mighty to accept a _mere_ _human_ as better than them." He clenched his left hand. "Then in the second War they murdered every man, woman and child they found, they deserved nothing less than death! And we gave it to them."

Jon still didn't look overly convinced. Looking up at the moon, that looked like it had reached its apex. "Getting late, maybe I'll see you tomorrow." He held out his hand.

Eadric took it and shook it. "Oh you will, I want to see this Wall of yours with my own eyes, something that old needs to be seen to be believed."

Jon looked at him for a moment before nodding slowly. "That's if father lets me go." He muttered as he walked off.

Chuckling, Eadric picked up his axe and made his way down to the castle village, hoping to find an inn to sleep in.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading and don't forget to leave a review if you so wish. I'm new so all reviews are welcome.**


	2. A song, a message and a fall

**Thank you all so much for the positive response to my first chapter.  
In response to a review by Hornet07. There will be several OCs but they won't be taking away from what the Dragonborn is doing and in fact he may or may not appear down below.  
Hope you enjoy the read.**

 **(spelling errors fixed, alert me if you see any more)**

* * *

 _Winterfell, The North, Westeros_

It hadn't taken Eadric long to find the inn and to his great relief his Septims not only still worked in Westeros but were also worth more than in Skyrim, it seemed he was now relatively well off by Westerosi standards.

After renting a room he shrugged off his pack and pulled his Chainmail off. Warming his hands on the fire he looked around the room. It was bare bones but comfortable, what everyone expected from their inns and nothing more. The bed was certainly a welcome surprise, looked more like the beds of the nobility back in Skyrim with the cloth covered mattress and thick blanket compared to the simple fur covered straws he was used to. "Maybe this place isn't that bad after all." He muttered before clambering into it and quickly falling asleep.

...

 _Eadric opened his eyes after what felt like mere seconds, what greeted him wasn't the soft red glow of the fire he'd lit in his room in the inn, all around him was a dark forest covered in mist. Sitting up he caught the scent of something. "The hunting grounds." Eadric muttered, he'd been here several times in his dreams, every second here made him feel like he was at home, in his element._

 _Standing up he felt his body undergo the transformation that was so familiar to him. His arms lengthened, his nails sharpened into claws. His legs grew and knees bent. He felt his face shifting. Throughout all of it he felt the rush, the thrill of becoming what his blood yearned to be, the Wolf. His knees buckled when the transformation was complete, his knuckles rested on the ground. An urge came into his head and he was all too happy to oblige, lifting his head up he let out a long and loud howl, which was soon greeted by countless others._

 _His howl complete he stood, sniffing the air. His heightened senses felt a presence coming, it smelt familiar, powerful and at the same time restrained, controlled. Looking in the direction of the scent he watched as a large ethereal white elk walked out of the mist that surrounded him. The werewolf quickly bowed his head. "My Lord Hircine." His Nordic voice came, only in the realm of the Prince of the Hunt could a werewolf speak with his own voice, or during the Bloodmoon._

 _The Deer approached him, looking majestic in its stride. "Well met hunter." Hircine's voice came from everywhere at once. "It is good you answered the call."_

 _"My soul is yours Hunt Master." Eadric spoke as he stood at his full height, but he was still shorter than the form Hircine had chosen to address him with, the same form he had chosen to address him with during his hunt for Sinding._

 _The deer that was Hircine nodded slightly. "Indeed it is, my Champion." He said in a friendly voice, those who earned the Prince of the Hunts favour were seldom mistreated, not like the chosen of certain Princes of Oblivion. "My brother Sanguine has surely already told you of why you are in these new lands."_

 _Eadric nodded his wolf head in answer._

 _"Then you already know why I have summoned you here." As Hircine was speaking another werewolf approached, Eadric instantly recognised the scent. "You are to spread my gift to those you find worthy, you are to spread knowledge of me. And you are to honour me in the hunt." The Daedric prince turned to face the other werewolf, who bowed in the same way Eadric had done. "You are not the only one of my blood to be in Westeros, Eadric Haraldsson." He turned back to the werewolf he addressed. "Those of the wolf blood are never without the pack."_

 _The new arrival lifted his head and approached Eadric. "So shield brother." Came the gravelly voice of Skjor, Member of the Circle and most likely to succeed Kodlak. "You'll do the Hunt Masters work South of the Wall?"_

 _"Yes shield brother, I plan to see the Wall with my own eyes."_

 _Skjor chuckled. "As do I, though I do not think anyone south of the Wall will like it when I do." He looked as though he was going to speak more but Hircine stood between the two._

 _"Go my Champions. I have kept you both too long, return to the Realm of your birth." Both Eadric and Skjor bowed their wolf heads to the Daedric Prince. Soon Eadric's vision darkened, he was waking._

...

Eadric came to with a start, bolting up into a sitting position and panting. Placing a hand on his chest he looked around, he was still in the inn room he'd rented.

Sighing to himself he pushed himself off of the cheap bed and straitened his tunic before picking up the Chainmail he normally wore over it. Pulling the heavy metal shirt over his head he looked around for his belt. After a few more minutes of getting dressed he buckled his sword and Saex onto his belt and slung his axe into its place on his back. He only housed his axe on his back because it was more comfortable to carry, if he ever expected to fight with it he just rested it on his shoulder as he walked and if he ever tried to quickly get his axe out from its place on his back it invariably took more time than was available, hence the sword he carried. After one last check he walked to the door and opened it, though paused at the entrance to the hallway and returned into his room to pick up his lute and sling it across his back with his axe before making his way downstairs.

Down in the common room of the inn there was the typical bar setup in one corner and several long tables with chairs around them. In the corner opposite the stairs and to the left of the bar was a more private table setup with wooden partitions to separate it from the rest of the room. When Eadric stepped off the final stair the innkeeper looked up and nodded in his direction. "Have a good night, ser?" He asked as he wiped down the bar.

"better than most beds from where I come from." The Nord stated, which gained him a slight grin from the middle-aged man behind the counter. "Most we have are some skins over straw, here you have actual cloth."

"If you think what we have up here is good you'll love it down South, they don't get Summer snows down there." The barkeep said before nodding to another patron coming down the stairs who simply nodded back before leaving. "You want anything?"

Eadric nodded slightly as he sat down on one of the stools at the counter. "Got any food?"

"Oh aye, got some stew left over from last night. Left it outside to let it freeze so I can get yer some to heat up."

"I'll take some of that then, and a mug of ale once it's heated up." Eadric unslung the lute. "You mind if I play for a bit?"

The innkeeper shook his head slightly. "Go ahead, not busy so you shouldn't annoy anyone." He turned to walk through the door behind the counter and into another room.

Smiling to himself, Eadric lifted up the instrument and began tuning it. After a minute or so getting the cords right he began strumming before lowly singing his favourite song. " _Alduin's wings, they did darken the sky. His roar fury's fire, and his scales sharpened scythes. Men ran and they cowered, and they fought and they died. They burned and they bled as they issued their cries. We need saviours to free us, from Alduin's rage. Heroes on the field, of this new war to wage. And if Alduin wins, man is gone from this world. Lost in the shadow of black wings unfurled. But then came the tongues, on that terrible day. Steadfast as winter, they enter the fray. And all heard the music, of Alduin's doom. The sweet song of Skyrim, sky-shattering thu'um! And so the tongues freed us, from Alduin's rage. gave the gift of the voice, ushered in a new age. If Alduin's eternal, then eternity's done. For his story is over, and the Dragon's are gone._ "The Nord stopped singing and strummed the last few tunes.

When he stopped someone clapped in the room. "Bravo." Eadric turned to see Tyrion standing in the open door to the inn. "Didn't take you for much of a singer when I first saw you, and I pride myself on being able to read people."

Eadric looked over the small man. "And I didn't expect to see a Lord in the local inn."

"What can I say? I'm a man of the people." The dwarf walked over to the counter and pulled himself onto one of the stools. "And I will admit I wanted to speak to you."

Eadric sighed and set his lute down on the counter. "About what?"

Before Tyrion could reply the barkeep returned, carrying a bowl of stew and a mug of ale. He saw Tyrion but didn't seem surprised and in fact a small smirk was visible as he set down the bowl and mug in front of Eadric. "One gold." He held out a hand for Eadric to place the coin into, which he did. The barkeep then turned to Tyrion. "M'lord, Ros can be with you in 'round half an hour, she's a nightmare to wake sometimes."

"I'm not here for some time with Ros." Tyrion replied before giving a smirk of his own. "At least not at the moment I am." After a chuckle from the barkeep Tyrion returned his view to the Nord. "As I was saying, I wanted to know a bit about Skyrim, the only books I've read are from Cyrodil and they seem to be... Oversimplifying things to say the least."

Eadric chuckled. "That's Imperials for you, they love painting Nords as rough barbarians." The Nord ate a spoonful of the stew and washed it down with some of the Ale. "Well to start off, what do you know about Skyrim?"

"That it's the homeland of the Nords and the oldest kingdom of men on the continent. Besides that it's all about the raids and wars the Nords fought in Cyrodil." Tyrion replied as he tried to remember the descriptions of Skyrim.

Eadric grunted slightly. "You only know so much." He took another few mouthfuls of the stew, it was good if a bit salty. "Most of the histories of the Nords is told in song or carved onto the walls of our forefathers tombs. Even then we've long lost the words written on those ancient halls so only the songs remain to us. I spent time in the Bards College of Solitude, capital of Skyrim, so I can recite many of them."

Tyrion nodded slightly. "You wouldn't be opposed to reciting one here?"

"No, I wouldn't." Eadric gulped down the last of the ale before setting the mug back down. Taking a deep breath he focused his mind on the song he wanted and after a minute it was clear in his head. Lowly he began to sing again, though unlike the one before this one was an old poem, truly ancient.

" _When at last the rightful claim of Saarthal had been retaken, driving the murderous elves back to their lofty cities, did great Ysgramor turn and let loose the fearsome war cry that echoed across all the oceans. The Five Hundred who yet stood joined in the ovation for the victory and the lament for their fallen peers. It was said to be heard on the distant and chilling green shores of Atmora and the ancestors knew their time had come to cross the seas._

 _As the reverberations echoed out and drowned to silence, all looked to Ysgramor, who bore the blessed Wuuthrad, for his next commandment. With his lungs that bellow forth the fury of humanity, he bade them to continue their march, that the devious Mer might know the terror they had brought on themselves with their trickery._

 _"Go forth," he roared. "Into the belly of this new land. Drive the wretched from their palaces of idleness." Oblige them to squalor and foil, that they would see their betrayals as the all-sin against our kind. Give no quarter. Show no kindness. For they would not give nor show you the same." (Our great forebear gave this order as he did not yet understand the prophecy of the Twin Snakes, that he would be fated to die before seeing the true destiny of his line.)_

 _Hearing this, the Circle of Captains gathered each their crews unto themselves. From here, they decreed, we will go forth. Let each ship's band make its own way, seeking their fates to the open sun. A night spent in feasting, the Oath of the Companions was sworn anew, with each of the Five Hundred (so they still names their count, in honour of the shields that were broken at Saarthal) swearing to act as Shield-brother and Shield-sister to any of the Atmoran line were their fates to ever again entwine._ " He stopped, it was only a portion of the poem but he thought it was enough to appease to dwarf.

Tyrion has sat throughout the rendition of a portion of the lengthy 'Songs of Return' and when the Nord stopped he raised an eyebrow. "It's good, but it does sound like a myth."

Eadric looked at him. "Jon Stark said the same when I told him about the Second Great War, you people don't believe Elves exist."

"I believe what I see, and I've yet to see an Elf." Tyrion replied simply. "Would you mind explaining the different parts of that poem?"

"The first bit will take some explaining. According to our oldest legends Saarthal was the first city of men in Skyrim, or all of Tamriel. Ysgramor ruled as King and for a time there was peace with the Snow Elves who were natives of Skyrim. For years we traded and lived alongside each other, then came the Night of Tears." Eadric sighed slightly. "The Elves came in the night and razed the City, butchering every man, woman and child they could find. Only Ysgramor and his two sons could escape. When they returned to Atmora, the ancient and long since lost home of men, they told the Atmorans of the treachery of the Elves and the slaughter of their kin. In outrage at the treachery and dishonour of the Elves five hundred warriors followed Ysgramor and returned to Skyrim, to exact our vengeance. They crushed the Elves at the landing by where the city of Windhelm would eventually be built."

Tyrion nodded slowly. "Sounds somewhat similar to the legends of how the Andals invaded Westeros."

Before he could elaborate bells sounded from outside causing everyone in the inn to look up instantly. Without a word Eadric stood and sprinted out of the door, they sounded just like the bells to warn of a Dragon attack. Exiting the inn he looked around, everyone just seemed to be looking up at the castle but no one looked scared, worried maybe but not scared. All around there were villagers asking some form of 'what's going on'.

Tyrion soon joined the Nord, also looking confused. "Warning bells?"

As the two looked up at the castle the gates opened and a single rider came charging down the hill, yelling at the top of his lungs. "Lord Brandon Stark has fallen from the tower! Lord Brandon Stark has fallen from the tower!" He was at full gallop and didn't stop as he rode through the village, heading off in the direction of the forest.

"Seems this trip might be interesting after all." Was all Tyrion could say on the matter before looking back up at the castle, eyeing the tall dilapidated tower.

* * *

 _Dragonsreach, Whiterun, Skyrim_

Proventus Avenicci sat down on the long table on the Dragonsreach porch, rubbing his hands at the multitude of meats and breads on offer for his lunch. Picking up the bowel of pheasant breasts he spooned a few onto his plate and broke off a piece of the large loaf of bread just in front of him. Gods he missed the food of Cyrodil but this was the closest he'd get outside of Soltitude. He picked up the knife and fork next to his plate and began cutting one of the breasts and was just about to eat the first mouthful when a Gyrfalcon landed on the top of the chair next to him.

"Shoo, I'm busy." He tried to wave the bird off an got it to lift off but as soon as he stopped his protests it landed again and cocked its head at him. "By the Nine what do you want?" He asked the bird in frustration who only cocked its head in the other direction. Sighing, he decided to ignore it and return to his meal.

At that moment, and to Proventus's immense annoyance, Hrongar approached. "Imperial, figured I'd find you here." He stopped just beside Avenicci and looked at the Gyrfalcon for a few seconds before offering his armoured arm to it.

The bird quickly jumped on. "Hrongar, what are you doing?" Proventus asked.

"Gyrfalcons are the messenger birds of the Blue Palace, idiot." The Nord replied in his usual gruff tone as he raise the Gyrfalcon in question to see where the message on it would be kept. "Ah, there we go." He took the small cylinder attached to the birds leg and held it out to Proventus, who took it with a scowl.

"Just as I was sitting down for lunch." The Imperial mumbled as he opened the cylinder and began unravelling it. "What does Falk want this time? More grain? The Companions?" When he finally got the annoyingly small scroll unravelled he read it silently. Without a word he stood, ignoring his meal and walking back towards the keep.

"What is it Avenicci?" Hrongar asked as he followed the Imperial.

Proventus opened the large door and walked in. "The Empress is in need of someone." Was all he said.

* * *

 _Sempronius Estate, Whiterun Hold, Skyrim_

"Keep your shields up! Don't bother trying to defend the legs, your enemy won't expose themselves so carelessly!" Erik boomed from his position in the courtyard of the Estate. Before him were eight new recruits to Severus Sempronius' retinue, and they were in dire need of instruction. The fact that he of all people was now training new fighters as only six years ago he'd didn't own any armour, let alone killed a man, wasn't lost on him. "Keep your shield in front of you! Theatrics in battle will just get you killed!" The men in front of him murmured something before all trying to keep the shields in their hands in front of them and not move it to the side to attack.

"How are they Erik?" The familiar voice of Severus came from just behind him and sure enough, the Imperial soon came into view.

Erik shrugged. "They could be better. By the Nine some of them are worse than I was at first." The comment drew a chuckle from Severus. Six years before Erik was just another farmhand in Rorikstead, no one important. Then Severus rode into town, his Ebony scale armour and golden cloak fluttering in the wind. It had taken most of the evening to work up the courage to talk to him at his father's inn and when he did he was elated that he had. That very week his father took him to Whiterun to get some armour fitted using the money Severus had gave them. After that Erik had been 'hired' by Severus as his first mercenary job, not that Erik ever took any jobs from anyone else. "I'd hate to see how they ride, or use a spear."

"I'm sure they'll shape up with you teaching them." The Imperial patted Erik on the shoulder. "Trust you more than anyone to do this."

The Nord smirked. "Oh I'm sure you could have convinced Lydia to do this as well." He nudged Severus slightly and the two shared a laugh.

"Better believe it." Severus grinned. He'd married his Housecarl before he set off to join the Empire in the Second War with the Dominion, in case he never got back, which he did, as did Erik.

As the two talked, another of Severus' retinue walked up to them, carrying a piece of parchment in his hand. When he reached the two he gave the Nord greeting of a fist on the right of the chest and held out the parchment. "From Whiterun, Ysmir. Arrived by courier moments ago."

Severus took it and began reading it aloud. "To Severus Sempronius, Thane of Whiterun and Dragon of the North." He sighed slightly as he read out his honorific. "You are hereby summoned by Balgruuf the Greater, Jarl of Whiterun and Hammer of the Elves, for an audience with the Jarl. Bring your riders and enough supplies for a two weeks journey at the least. Signed, Proventus Avenicci, Steward of Whiterun Hold."

Erik smirked. "Looks like we're needed somewhere in the Empire."

"Aye, it does." Severus agreed as he lowered the parchment and turned to member of his retinue who had delivered the message. "Gather the men and supplies. Tomorrow we ride for the City."

"At once Ysmir." The man put his fist to his chest again and began jogging off to the largest building of the estate, the barracks.

Severus sighed slightly. "You're coming with me Erik, the recruits are coming as well so be sure they know how to ride by tomorrow."

"It's a big ask, Sev. I'll try my best but they'll be learning on the way by the looks of it." Erik replied before lifting a hand to his chin to stroke his beard. "Do you know what they want?"

The Imperial shrugged. "No idea." With a nod to Erik, who returned the gesture, Severus walked in the direction of his personal manor, leaving Erik with the recruits who had stopped to look in their direction.

"You heard him! Get to the stables and get your horses, we begin in ten minutes!" Erik yelled and the recruits quickly began doing as they were told. Whatever the Jarl wanted it was important. The last time the Sempronius retinue had ridden as one was the War with the Dominion when Severus answered Jarl Balgruufs call for war. gazing up at the Mountain on the other end of the Hold, the Throat of the World, he hoped this wasn't another War they were being dragged into.

 **So that's the second chapter done, hope you liked it.  
Again, all reviews welcome.  
Also I'm going to try updating this every week or so but don't hold me to that as College has just started again.**


	3. A tale of the war and the Jarl's summons

**Thank you all for reading this and faving/following, encourages me to continue like nothing else.  
Also another thanks to Hornet07 for pointing out my mistakes in this (I swear I am actually English) and if anyone else spots a mistake in this chapter let me know and I'll immediately fix it, I have proof read this but I probably won't have gotten all my mistakes.**

 **(Fixed a couple of mistakes, namely that I for some reason had Eadric bowing to Balgruuf instead of Severus but it's fixed now )**

* * *

 _Winterfell, The North, Westeros_

The days after Brandon Stark's fall from the tower was hectic to say the least. The castle had been closed since the fall and most in the village were wondering if the little Lord would survive. When news came down that Brandon would indeed live but be unable to walk there was some mild celebration, people of Winterfell really seemed to love the Starks. On the fourth day the castle had been opened again and the party heading South had come out, along with the group heading North which Eadric was supposed to be a part of.

"How much for the horse?" Eadric asked the stablemaster in the village.

The greying man looked up from his work shoeing one of the horses to look at the one the Nord was pointing to. "Her? She's worth five gold dragons."

Eadric nodded and opened his pouch to get five Septims out. They were accepted as whatever the Gold Dragons were and they were worth a hundred silver stags, whatever that meant. "Here." He held the coins out and the man took them before returning to his work, seeming uninterested in the customer once he'd been served.

Approaching the horse that was already saddled and ready to go Eadric quickly saw it was more like the Cyrodilic breeds than the tough horses of Skyrim. Hoping they acted like the Cyrodilic breed as well as looked like them he reached out and patted it on the nose, to his relief the horse moved its head into the hand gently. Taking his chances he moved to the left side of the animal and mounted up. The horse moved about slightly to adjust to the new weight of the armed, armoured and quite large individual now on top of it, though thankfully it quickly settled down.

Kicking the horse gently in the side to get it moving, Eadric set off to join the passing train of people as they slowly made their way through the village. The party heading South was in much the same formation as they were when they first came to Winterfell, with the only difference being a second carriage for the Stark girls and that Lord Eddard was with the King as they rode. This was the first time Eadric had actually seen the Warden of the North and he had a striking resemblance, in Eadric's mind at least, to Ulfric Stormcloak. "Let's hope he doesn't try taking power." Eadric muttered as he tried to spot Jon Stark or Tyrion Lannister in the train. Finally spotting the dwarf, who was riding next to Jaime Lannister, the Nord rode over.

"Glad you could join us, Nord." Tyrion smirked as Eadric's horse fell into step alongside his. "I hear it's quite the journey to the Wall."

Before Eadric could answer Jaime laughed. "Don't tell me my brother's roped you into his holiday North?"

Eadric just shrugged. "When I heard of a giant Ice Wall that stretches for miles I wanted to see. Just so happens I won't be travelling North alone."

For the next half hour or so they talked idly or just rode in silence until they left Winterfell and came to the crossroads on the paved road, the Kingsroad as the locals called it. Tyrion and Jaime said farewells to each other before Tyrion kicked his horse to ride up to Benjen who was further ahead in front.

As Eadric was about to do the same Jaime spoke up. "Hey Nord. Look after my brother while you're with him."

"I'll try to, Lannister." Eadric replied and Jaime nodded in silent thanks. Kicking his horse again, Eadric quickly caught up with Tyrion and Benjen, seemingly the only other two besides Jon going further North. Both were looking down the road South. Also turning to look, Eadric could easily see why. Just behind the party heading South was Lord Eddard and Jon, talking about something. After a few minutes they finished whatever they were talking about and Jon turned to join the three.

"Alright, let's get moving." Benjen said as the group was finally complete. "Long journey North to the Wall." In silence all four kicked their horses and they beganmaking their way North.

* * *

 _Whiterun, Skyrim, Tamriel_

Severus Semponius walked at the head of a few of his retinue as they made their way through the plains district of Whiterun. Behind him were forty hardened warriors and riders, along with eight or so new warriors Erik was desperately trying to get into shape. Erik was the first to follow him and after the combination of the end of the Dragon Crisis and the Civil War, Severus was well known throughout the Holds of Skyrim and attracted many warriors to him. Before the War they were just a motley band of Nordic warriors, good fighters but little discipline. It wasn't until the Elves tried to invade the Empire a second time they had been formed into a real unit and not just a band of warriors. Now they were his riders, all decked out in Scale armour and the golden cloak of Whiterun, and they'd follow him into the gates of Oblivion is he asked them.

When they finally made it to the market they turned left and headed up the stairs to the ancient Gildergreen, sacred tree of Kynareth. Across the way from the temple of Kynareth was new development since after the Second War with the dominion, the Temple of Talos. Heimskr had at first been imprisoned by the Legion after Ulfric's attack was repulsed but on the day War was declared he was freed, and to the surprise of no one he instantly volunteered to join Balgruuf's host as it went South with the forces of the other Holds.

"Alright." Severus turned to the men following him. "Erik with me, rest of you do what you want. Back at the stables by noon." The ones near him nodded and the group quickly began to disperse, mainly heading in the direction of the Plains district or the two temples. Erik meanwhile walked up to Severus. "Let's see what they want." He muttered as he started to ascend the stone stairs.

The Hold Guards at the door to Dragonsreach quickly opened the doors when they saw Severus approaching and both put their fists on their chests. Inside there was the usual sound of the large hearth in the centre of the raised area and the sweeping of the servants brushes, along with the sounds of a heated discussion between the Jarl and his advisors.

As the Imperial and Nord both made their way to the Jarls throne the servants stopped to look at the two and further up the conversation stopped when Irileth spotted the two. When they crested the set of stairs Proventus approached. "Ah excellent, you received the summons. The Jarl is waiting for you." He nodded to the pair and immediately made his way back to the raised platform that housed the Throne, standing to Balgruuf's right.

"You've arrived, Dragonborn." Balgruuf stated as Severus and Erik approached. "I'll be blunt. The Empress has sent for you. The message says it's urgent, and who are we to argue with Falk's judgement?" The Jarl chuckled, even managing to make it sound dignified.

Severus nodded slowly, so it was Empress Elisif who wanted him. "Do you know why she sent for me?"

"The message from Falk didn't say, just that she wanted you and your Riders in Solitude as soon as possible." Balgruuf explained.

"I'll set out immediatly, my Jarl." Severus bowed and made to leave before being stopped by Balgruuf raising his right hand.

"Wait, my friend. Before you go I have a favour to ask of you." He waited for a nod from Severus before continuing. "My son Frothar has come of age and he's... Restless to say the least. I was hoping you could mentor him for the next year or so."

Severus smirked and bowed his head slightly. "It would be an honour, my Jarl."

Balgruuf laughed. "It's not meant as an honour my friend. It's so he can learn the ways of war while I show Nelkir the ways of politics."

"Tell him to come to the stables at noon then, that's when we'll be setting out." Severus said as he grinned slightly at the Jarl. "Do you need anything else?"

Balgruuf shook his head. "No Ysmir. You may leave now if you wish."

With a bow from Severus and Erik the two left, leaving the hall silent as they went.

...

Balgruuf watched Severus leave. When the Imperial finally made it through the doors he sighed. "We should have told him."

"The message made it clear we weren't to tell him, my Jarl." Proventus argued.

"It seems cowardly. The man's done enough for me and the Empire to deserve to know what's going on." The Jarl retorted. "He blasted the gates of the Imperial City open for Talos's sake."

"For once I agree with Avenicci." Hrongar, his brother, spoke up. Proventus looked surprised by the statement. "He might have refused to go if he knew."

Balgruuf sighed and rested his forehead in his hand. "I know, it's just." He sighed again. "I've known him too long to send him out unaware like this."

Avenicci subtly changed his demeanor to his less formal side. "Balgruuf, this is Severus Semponius, I have no doubts he'll make it."

Hrongar nodded. "If he can survive three years of war, this will be easy for him, and Frothar."

"Hah." Balgruuf chuckled. "Once Semponius is through with him I might feel sorry for the people who get on Frothar's bad side." The Nord Jarl relaxed slightly. "Well it's done. Who's seeking an audience today, Proventus?"

"Clan Grey-mane." Proventus replied quickly. "They wish to present you with your new armour. A gift I believe, for building the temple of Talos."

Balgruuf noddd. "Send them in, will be good to see the fruits of Eorlund's labours."

* * *

 _The Kingsroad, The North, Westeros_

Eadric sat with his back against a tree, tuning his lute. The group had set up camp the day before to wait for a few other Nights Watchmen. When they'd arrived hey had prisoners with them, apparently new recruits for the Watch. The prisoners were sat by the fire, their hands bound in front of them and Jon was eyeing them with both a look of surprise and disgust.

"Rapers." Tyrion said from his position sat against another tree, reading a book. "They were given a choice no doubt... Castration or the Wall." Eadric looked over at the three prisoners with a look of clear disgust, he'd killed men like them a hundred times in Skyrim. "Most choose the knife." Jon stopped looking at them and instead looked at the floor, something Tyrion noticed. "Not impressed by your new brothers ? Lovely thing about the Watch... You discard your old family and get a whole new one."

"This what you do with rapists? Castrate them or cart them off to the Wall?" Eadric asked as he finally finished tuning his lute.

Tyrion smirked. "For the most part, the Wall is the easy way out. What do you do with them in Skyrim?"

"In Skyrim there's a blood money system. Every crime has a set fine you have to pay to the Jarl. If you don't pay then anyone is free to hunt you down, kill you and claim the amount the fine was worth as a bounty." The Nord replied simply. "Hunted down a few bounties myself from time to time."

Jon looked up from the floor and looked at Eadric. "What did the worst of them do?"

Eadric sighed. "Murder and Necromancy."

Tyrion scoffed. "Necromancy, like the grumpkins and snarks the Watch say is beyond the wall. Don't tell me you believe in that nonsense?"

"You people would shit yourselves if you ever ended up in Skyrim." Eadric chuckled darkly. "We have Giants, Mammoths, Trolls and Wolves as big as horses." At the mention of wolves Jon's Direwolf, ghost as he'd named it, looked up from its place next to Jon only to rest its head back on its paws.

At this point Benjen sat down next to the three. "What was that about Mammoths?"

"Eadric here was saying that he's seen far worse than anything you lot say is beyond the Wall." Tyrion responded bluntly, having returned to reading his book.

Benjen looked across at Eadric, who was now idly strumming a faint tune. "Right, you're from this Skyrim place, how many winters have you seen?"

The Nord looked up. "We don't really have seasons in Skyrim, so far North that it might as well be winter all year. Though by Cyrodilic standards I've seen twenty eight."

"Twenty eight? How is that possible?" Benjen asked, looking confused.

Eadric shrugged. "Because I'm twenty eight years old."

"You have a winter a year?" Asked the still confused looking Benjen.

"Aye, at the end of every year. You have them differently or something?"

Tyrion responded before Benjen could, but still focused mainly on the book. "Seasons here last years at a time, current summer is nine years old."

Again Eadric shrugs. "Well I've seen twenty eight Skyrim winters in any event, and Skyrim summers are Cyrodilic winters."

"Skyrim sounds like an odd place. Jon said your people have fought something called Elves." Benjen looked across at Jon for a moment who just nodded slightly before stroking his Direwolf.

"Not only fought them, they apparently slaughtered them and took their homeland from them to call their own." Tyrion stated, not even looking up. "Elves seem to be like the First Men of Westeros in that regard."

"They were the ones to begin the slaughter. " Eadric said firmly before sighing. "They were always the one to start the genocides."

Benjen nodded slightly, though didn't look like he was buying it. "Jon also mentioned some Great War, said your people crushed them a few years ago."

The Nord sighed again and looked up at the dark sky, to the side the three prisoners were eyeing him, as if also expecting him to explain. "Thirty seven years ago the Second Aldmeri Dominion attacked the Empire, a four year war followed and we damn well near lost. The Elves forced us to give up our God, mighty Talos. The Nords of Skyrim hated this, Talos was one of our own before he became a God. Eventually one of the Jarls, Ulfric Stormcloak got fed up of worshipping in secret and killed the High King, started a whole Civil War, which he lost in the end. No sooner was Ulfric dead than the Elves attacked again." Eadric grimaced slightly at how the War began. "The Empire was still recovering, there was barely a Legion in the Imperial province, they never stood a chance. The Imperial City was besieged again, it fell within the week."

Benjen, Jon and the prisoners were all listening intently and even Tyrion was finding himself hard pressed to appear like he wasn't listening. "The fourth Legion under General Tulius, the Legion sent to Skyrim to crush Ulfric's rebellion immediately pulled from the forts of Skyrim and the recently 'liberated' holds, they were the Empire's best hope. By the time they reached Bruma, the most northern city in Cyrodil, the entire south part of the province was in Elven hands. I was told that the fires from the Imperial City could be seen from the mountains, the Elves killed everyone they found and tore down the White Gold Tower, the centre of the Empire. The Emperor and his family were butchered along with the people and left to rot where they fell." The Nord's fist clenched slightly. "When word reached Skyrim of the slaughter Balgruuf the Greater, Jarl of Whiterun called the Moot, a gathering of all the Jarls. With the Emperor and his heirs dead it was decided Jarl Elisif would become High Queen of Skyrim and ultimately Empress while Balgruuf was to lead the warriors of Skyrim the Legion left behind. Not since before the coming of Talos had such a large gathering of the sons and daughters of Skyrim occurred."

"Daughters of Skyrim? You let your women fight?" Benjen interupted.

"Skyrim is a harsh land, you fight or you die and that goes for the women as well." Eardric said as he looked up at Benjen before continuing with the story of the War. "The rest I know only from what one of Balgruuf's Carls told me when he returned from the War. The Skyrim host entered Cyrodil the same way the Fourth Legion had come, they found Bruma besieged by an Elven army. With rage not felt since the coming of Ysgramor they fell upon them, slaughtering everything with pointed ears outside the walls. There they learned that the Fourth Legion was holed up in Kvatch, a City to the South West and only recently rebuilt. Balgruuf sent riders to Kvatch to tell Tulius of his arrival and plans for the Elves. The host of Skyrim was to advance North East and move around to the Eastern side of the Imperial City bay while General Tulius was to advance and drive the Elves back from the West." He looked back down at the floor. "It took three years of brutal fighting to drive them from the East and West of the province. Cheydinhall was nearly completely destroyed in the fighting "

"The Elves pulled back to the remains of the Imperial City, hoping the ancient walls would protect them, hah!" The Direwolf at Jon's side perked up at exclemation but quickly returned to its rest. "They weren't counting on the Dragonborn."

Tyrion rolled his eyes. "The what?"

Eadri glanced over at Tyrion. "The Dovahkiin, Dragonborn. A mortal with the soul of a Dragon, they have the natural ability of the thu'um, the voice. A few words from the Dragonborn and the gates of the Imperial City were wrenched from their places and the armies of men poured through, butchering every Elf they found. They captured the Elven Queen herself that day, the bitch who commanded her people to wipe men off the face of Nirn, but she was still a Queen." The Nord sighed again. "So they did what they could, they stripped her, paraded her in front of the armies and sent her walking back to the Summerset Isles with little more than a rag. Now the Elves fight their own Civil War, most of them hated the Thalmor as much as men did."

There was a silence between the group for a few minutes before Eadri stood. "I'm going to do some hunting. Catch up with you tomorrow at some point."

"You don't even know the way. How are you going to find us?" Jon asked.

"I have my ways." Eadric called over his shoulder as he left.

* * *

 _Whiterun, Skyrim, Tamriel_

Erik checked the saddle of his horse, making sure his supplies were all accounted for and that the saddle itself was secure. "So when does the Jarls son arrive?" He asked Severus, who was also checking the saddle on his own horse.

"Soon I should hope. Don't want to be kept waiting by him, want to get to the Watchtower before nightfall." Severus replied as he went through his own supply pack one last time.

The sound of hooves against stone came from behind them, causing both to look over their shoulder. Riding down the cobbled road from the gatehouse to the stables was Frothar, eldest son of Balgruuf the Greater, having seen eighteen winters. "Good to see you Thane Semponius." The young man nodded.

"Good to see you too Frothar." Severus returned the nod to the Jarl's son. "Hope you're ready for a long trip, we leave in a few minutes and won't stop until we get to the Western Watchtower."

The young Nord grinned and nodded. "Can't wait, Thane Semponius." He patted his horses neck, a Skyrim purebred, meant more for toughness and endurance than speed, while the cross breeds Severus's retinue favoured offered reasonable durability and reasonable speed, vital for charges. "Father said you'd teach me how to fight. Uncle Hrongar taught me a bit but father wouldn't let us use real steel."

"You'll use real steel with us, don't worry about that." Erik said as he mounted his horse. "You got the supplies for the trip?"

Frothar nodded. "Couple weeks worth of food if I'm careful."

Severus mounted his own horse. "Good, we have little to spare." He kicked his horse on and raised his hand. "Retinue on me!" He called before trotting down the road to the Western watchtower, followed by Frothar, Erik and the rest of the horsemen.

...

As the Semponius Retinue left the stables of the city a dark figure dropped out of a tree just across the road from the city. Silently, he moved over to a dark brown horse in the stable and quickly mounted it before galloping off into the countryside.

 _So far it's all going according to plan._ The figure thought as the city disappeared over the horizon. _The Jarl's son will make this even easier than if it was just Severus going._

The figure pushed his horse harder. _Need to get back to Solitude before them for this to work_.

* * *

 **So that's the third chapter done.  
I've decided to implement a 3500 minimum word limit for these chapters though some will (hopefully) far exceed this.  
Hope you enjoyed the read and fell free to leave a review, all feedback is helpful.**


	4. A mission and The Black Castle

**And there's the fourth chapter, sorry for the slight delay had a minor example of writers block in this chapter.  
Hope you enjoy the read and please point out any mistakes you see, I'm quite poor in spotting them myself.**

* * *

 _The Blue Palace, Solitude, Skyrim_

Severus walked through the door of the Blue Palace, his helmet held under his armpit. He wouldn't carry his helm with him had this been Whiterun but when it's the Empress herself summoning him and his band of fighters he had to look the part. To his right was Erik, who was holding his helm in the same way The Imperial was. The two ascended the steps that lead to the throne room. The Palace hadn't been changed since the Civil War and after the Imperial City's destruction it was the most logical place to move the capitol to, not to mention most defendable.

The two quickly reached the top of the stairs and found themselves in the small throne room. Empress Elisif was sitting in her throne and still lived up to her moniker. Standing beside her, as he always did, was Falk Firebeard, the true power behind the Imperial Throne. The other common members of the court were there, Sybelle and Bryling along with Erikur, who was now Lord Treasurer of the Empire. There was however a person Severus didn't know, a man in clearly noble clothing. The faint hum of discussion in the throne room died down as Severus approached the Empress. "Empress Elisif." He said with a nod. "You summoned me."

Elisif nodded. "I did Severus." She looked to Falk to explain more.

Falk cleared his throat. "We received a message from across the eastern sea, past Akivir. It concerns the Daedra."

"Across the eastern sea?" Severus asked, doubting if this was real.

"If you don't believe me then you can ask the person who gave us this message." Falk responded, pointing to the nobleman.

The noble in question stepped forward, he was clean shaven and clearly fitted his station. "My name is Guilliman Dinontus, of High Rock." He gave a curt nod and he certainly sounded like a Breton. "My Lord sent me with disturbing news. The Daedric Princes are trying to assert themselves in Mundus again, only this time they seek to do it across the eastern sea."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "And how did you come across this information?"

Guilliman didn't move, his face passive. "The Orc tribes living in High Rock say their Shamans received visions, they say Malacath warned them of what the other Princes desire."

"Why would Malacath warn them?" Severus asked, doubting every word the man said.

"Malacath was not always a Daedra, once he was of the Divines and he defends his people." The Breton explained. "He seems to think this poses a threat to the Orcs."

Severus sighed and shook his head. "We cannot trust the word of any Daedra, no matter what they say."

"Severus, this isn't the only case of a Daedric warning." Falk stated. "A few days after we sent the Gyrfalcon to Whiterun a self proclaimed servant of Sheogorath gave us the same warning. It cannot be a coincidence."

"What does the Empress say on this?" Severus asked as he turned to Elisif, soon everyone in the room was looking at her.

Elisif glanced around the room and there was a deafening silence for a few seconds. "I believe Dinontus. And even if Malacath is lying we cannot afford to ignore it as a possibility." There was another few seconds silence. "Severus Semponius, I wish you to accompany Dinontus across the eastern sea to investigate the claims and deal with them accordingly, we cannot have a repeat of the Oblivion crisis."

Severus nodded slowly and glanced around the room. "If it is the will of the Empress it will be so."

"Excellent." Elisif looked relieved that he'd accepted. "Due to the importance of this mission I've convinced General Tullius to assign the Fourth Legion's First Cohort to accompany you."

"Thank you, Empress." Severus said with another nod. "Is there anything I should know before carrying out your will?"

Elisif remained quiet but Falk spoke up. "There is one more thing, Severus. According to Dinontus the vision made it clear the Daedra are using their champions from Tamriel to assert themselves, if they see you they will likely run, so by the Nine tread carefully."

"I will Falk, don't worry about that." Severus smirked slightly before turning to leave. "Meet me by the docks in an hour, Breton!" He called without turning as he walked down the stairs, putting his helm on as he went."

* * *

 _The Kingsroad, the North, Westeros_

Eadric followed Benjen, Tyrion and Jon on the road to the North. They'd left Winterfell two weeks before and according to Benjen they would be there in a few hours. The country they passed through was bleak and empty, very similar to the tundra of Whiterun in some ways. The cold was mild if anything compared to Skyrim cold, Eadric had spent many months in Winterhold and the Pale and with their permanent snow covering the still green areas around him felt warm.

The road ahead advanced up a small hill and out of sight past its crest. As the group carried on and neared the top of the hill a light snow began falling. Eadric couldn't help but smirk slightly as he felt the familiar and comforting sensation of the frozen water on his face, which drew an odd look from Tyrion who was riding next to him. "You like snow?"

"Like I said, in Skyrim it's always winter. To a Nord snow is both an old friend and enemy at the same time, it destroys our crops but hardens our people, but always feels fresh." Eadric explained as they rode on, they were about to crest the hill.

When they did the view that met them stunned all but the Night's Watchmen amongst them. Before them, for as far as the eye could see in either direction, was a massive wall of Ice. "Welcome to the Wall." Benjen muttered before kicking his horse on.

Tyrion kicked his horse as well after a few seconds of staring at the structure, Which Eadric soon did as well. "You have anything like this in Skyrim, Eadric?" He asked as Jon finally joined the two in heading down the hill towards a small black castle.

The shook his head. "No, no we don't. Though I hear the Dwarves built things just as amazing underground."

"Dwarves?" Tyrion asked, raising an eyebrow. "If it turns out people like me are common over there I might hire a ship next chance I get."

"What?" Eadric looked down to Tyrion, before realising what the Imp meant. "Oh right, Dwarf as in short person. No I mean the Dwemer, Deep Elves. After my people drove the Snow Elves out of Skyrim they sought refuge with their underground cousins, biggest mistake they ever made."

Tyrion smirked. "Bigger than pissing off your ancestors?"

"Aye." He nodded. "We just killed them, the Dwemer..." He looked up at the top of the Wall. "They changed them, while once they were Elves and like the Altmer sods, now they're little more than deformed and blind animals."

"You don't have many happy stories, do you?" Jon stated as he too looked along the top of the Wall.

Eadric just chuckled. "Nords will sing about anything if you give them a chance. The Guard Captain of Whiterun is a trained bard." The Nord again chuckled as he realised something. "His name's Jon too, Jon Battle-Born "First into the fray and last to quit their ale" as they're proud of saying."

"You have bards guarding your cities?" Tyrion asked, raising an eyebrow.

"He might be a trained bard but he's as tough as they come, took over after the previous guard captain died in the war." Eadric chuckled again. "We had another bard, Mikael, who worked in the local inn, the Bannered Mare. Thing was, unlike Jon and me he sang for gold and the affections of wenches. He'd been trying for months to get into the bed of Carlotta, beautiful Imperial who had recently been widowed." He smirked. "Mikael never let her out of his sight and she got tired of it so she asked Jon to convince him to leave her alone. One thing lead to another and it ended with Mikael been thrown out of the inn by Jon after a _very_ fast brawl, he left the next day, tail between his legs." Tyrion laughed and Jon's grim face didn't change, he'd barely shown any emotion the entire journey.

In front of them the castle grew as they approached. The first thing that Eadric noticed was how small it was, probably smaller than some of the forts in Skyrim, though this castle had less impressive walls. In all it looked like it was more of a glorified manor for the Night's Watch than an actual fortification, not that you'd need one with a several hundred foot tall wall of solid Ice. When the group reached the gates Benjen raised a hand to signal them to stop and another man in a black cloak leaned out of the small wooden covering over the gate. After a short back and forth between the man and Benjen the gates opened and they rode in.

Inside there were more of the men of the Night's Watch milling about, several were training with wooden swords and in one corner a smith was hard at work. Other than that the main thing of interest was a massive wooden frame climbing up the wall and at the bottom was a compartment of some kind, likely for taking people to the top of the Wall.

"Charming place isn't it?" Tyrion said as he looked around. "Don't think I've seen a bleaker place."

Eadric shrugged and dismounted his horse. "You've never seen Winterhold."

"That's the place that fell into the sea?" The Imp asked as he pushed himself off of the saddle and landed on the floor.

"Aye, it is." Eadric said with a nod.

As Jon dismounted his horse a man walked up to them, he was big, old and clearly a seasoned fighter. "Lord Tyrion." He said with the same accent Jon spoke with. "Lord Commander Jeor Mormont."

Tyrion nodded his head slightly. "Lord Commander. Me and my friend here have come to see the Wall, I trust there won't be any issues with that?"

"If there's only two of you it shouldn't be." Mormont said before turning to another Night's Watchman next to him who was wearing plate armour and had a scowl plastered on his face. "Thorne, see what the new ones can do."

"Aye, Lord Commander." Thorne said with a nod.

Mormont turned back to Tyrion and Eadric. "I'll tell one of the stewards to set up a room for you both." Before Tyrion could respond he walked off.

"Well, we've arrived." Tyrion remarked.

"Wonder if they'll let us up the top of the Wall." Eadric muttered as he craned his head back to look up the massive structure.

Tyrion shrugged. "I hope so, I intend to piss off of it."

...

"Grenn. Show him what you farm boys are made of." Thorne instructed the new recruit of the Night's Watch who nodded and moved up the training grounds resident swordsman, Jon Snow. With a yell Grenn charged in only to be quickly hit in the stomach and then face by Jons blade, sending him reeling backwards. "If that were a real sword you'd be dead. Lord Snow here grew up in a castle spitting down on the likes of you." The man looked at another of the recruits. "Pyp. Do you think Ned Stark's bastard bleeds like the rest of us?"

The other recruit, Pyp, moved into the centre of the circle of recruits and raised his sword before yelling and swinging wide. Jon ducked out of the way and thrust into the boys stomach, sending him to the floor. Thorne didn't look impressed. "Next." Another recruit moved in and attacked but was again knocked to the ground. "Next." This time two attacked at once, clearly wanting to be the ones to beat the Lords bastard. The fight was over in a few seconds and Jon once again was victorious. "Well Lord Snow, seems you're the least useless person here." Thorne sneered at the boy. "Go clean yourselves up. There's only so much I can stomach in a day."

"Charming man." Tyrion noted from his place next to Lord Commander Mormont and Eadric, who was still wearing his mail and axe though he'd put his lute in the small room he'd been allowed to use during his stay.

Mormont looked down at him before looking back out across the small square. "I don't need him to be charming. I need him to turn this bunch of thieves and runaways into men of the Night's Watch."

"Why don't you get proper warriors?" Eadric asked. "Your ancestors clearly put that wall there for something bigger than the Wildlings." He gestured at the massive wall of Ice.

"Ah the Southerners don't put stock in what we say." The Lord Commander glanced down at Tyrion. "If I could I'd rather have warriors than thieves and rapers."

Tyrion frowned slightly. "Well it's thieves and rapers you've got. How's the training going?"

Jeor sighed. "Slowly." He held something out to Tyrion. "A Raven came, for Ned Stark's son."

The Dwarf took what the Northener held out. "Good news or bad?"

"Both" Mormont replied simply.

Tyrion looked at him for a moment before looking back down at the square, the recruits had all gone into the armoury and Thorne was walking towards them. "I'll go deliver this message." Tyrion said before descending the stairs and heading to the Armoury

"You might want to speak to Yoren, he's going South soon." Mormont called out. When Tyrion reached the armoury he turned to look at Eadric. "So you're a Nord?"

"Aye, born and raised in Falkreath hold." Eadric replied with a nod.

Jeor nodded slowly as he leant against the wooden railing. "Benjen tells me you say you've seen things worse than what's beyond the Wall."

The Nord shrugged slightly. "Seen and killed. As a Companion I get called to deal with problems all over the Province, be it killing Giants or the local Dragon problem."

At that moment Thorne joined them. "Dragons are all dead boy." He scowled at the Nord.

"Ones I've faced are dead, but there are plenty still flying in the skies of Skyrim." Eadric said before digging into his pouch for something. "And if you don't believe me, take a look at this." He took out a scale and held it out to Thorne. "Dragon Scale, from the first Dragon I killed."

Thorne took it and looked it over. "Bah, could easily be from a Lion Lizard." He held it out for Mormont to take it. "How many do you claim to have killed?"

"Three, all of them with help." Eadric explained. "Only the Dragonborn really stands a chance alone."

Jeor turned the scale over in his hands. "The what?"

"Mortal with the soul of a Dragon. He can easily use the ancient power of the Nords, the thu'um."

Thorne scoffed. "You expect me to believe that?"

Eadric shrugged. "Didn't expect Tyrion or Jon to believe it and they didn't. They also didn't believe me when I said there are Giants in Skyrim."

"There are Giants north of the Wall." Mormont stated. "Though only a few of the brothers have seen them, Benjen and the Halfhand are the only two now."

"Most folks in Skyrim have seen Giants, some farmers even give them tribute so they won't attack their farms." The Nord explained.

Thorne raised an eyebrow. "You don't kill them?"

"Why would we?" Eadric shrugged. "They keep to themselves mostly and so long as you keep your distance and leave their Mammoths alone there won't be any issues."

Mormont held the scale out to Eadric. "Sounds like I could use a few Nords here if you live with those beasts."

Eadric took the scale and put it back in his pouch. "We're just a result of our homeland, Skyrim is an unforgiving mistress."

"So is the North." Jeor looked across at Thorne who after a few seconds only nodded in agreement at something. "Do you have any White Walkers in Skyrim?" He asked, turning back to the Nord.

"Any what?"

"White Walkers." Thorne spoke. "The reason the First Men built the Wall in the first place, one of the rangers said he saw one up until the moment Ned Stark cut his head off. The legends say they can raise the dead to fight for them and that no weapons can hurt them."

Eadric thought for a moment and looked up at the top of the Wall. "Nothing called White Walkers in Skyrim, but there are Draugr, ancient Nords cursed with undeath. If you have them north of the Wall I can see why you built it."

"How do you kill them?" Mormont asked.

"Same as you do anything else, with steel. But the Draugr are weak against fire if that helps." Eadric explained. "Your White Walkers sound like Necromancers."

Thorne looked across the square, a light snow was beginning to fall. "Aye, but they're worse. If the White Walkers are back we're going to need more than a bunch of rapers and thieves manning the Wall."

Mormont nodded. "I was going to ask the Imp to try and convince the King to give us more men, but with King Robert I doubt it'll do anything." Thorne scowled at the mention of the King. "You say you've killed Dragons and Giants, you certainly look like you know how to swing that axe. We could use you here at the Wall."

The Nord looked across at Mormont. "You want me to stay here with the Watch?" The Lord Commander just nodded and looked forward again. "Tyrion mentioned your vows mean you can't marry or father children."

"I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children." Mormont recited a part of his oath. "I'm not asking you to take the oath, I'm asking you to stay here where that axe of yours can be put to use."

"Lord Commander." Thorne spoke in an almost warning tone. "He can't stay here if he doesn't take the oath."

Jeor glanced at Thorne. "We can't force him to take the oath." Thorne looked like he was going to protest more but at the last moment decided against it and without a word he walked off. "Don't mind him, he's seen things that'll turn a lesser man insane." He spoke, turning back to face Eadric. "What say you? Will you stay here and help us or go south with the Imp?"

Eadric looked at him for a moment before looking over the square again and the extent of the castle. "I'll think on the matter. Tyrion isn't leaving for a few days yet so I'll decide by then. And if I do stay." He glanced back at Mormont. "I won't be taking the oath. I still want a family when I eventually return to Skyrim."

"I understand." Mormont sighed slightly. "Some of us already had sons before we came here, and I don't think many really adjust to not having families of their own." He placed a hand of Eadrics shoulder. "Think about it. I won't force you to stay, just remember you'll be more use here than down south." He nodded to the Nord before walking off and into one the castles halls, leaving Eadric alone with his thoughts.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading and feel free to leave a review.  
Also if any of you want to give me a few ideas for the possible champions of the other princes send me a PM with the details on them.**


	5. A mage, a thief and a warrior

**I'm not dead! I got better! I feel happy!  
Sorry about the delay, had college stuff and other things pop up.  
Also sorry for the short length of this one, kinda ran out of things to write about with the episode we're currently working with  
As usual I hope you enjoy the read.**

* * *

 _The_ Shivering Maiden _, Solitude Docks, Skyrim_

Severus paced the Captain's room on the _Shivering Maiden_ , his ship for the journey to Westeros. In the centre there was a meeting table where Erik was currently sat along with Guilliman, both idly drinking from goblets of spiced wine. They were both waiting for the commander of the Cohort that was coming with them, they needed to go over what they were going to be doing once they arrived in Westeros. The door to the room opened and someone Severus was not expecting walked in.

"Legate Rikke." He gave a nod to Tullius' second in command. "Wasn't aware you'd be the one leading the Legion coming with us."

"General Tullius wanted me here himself." She returned the nod and sat down at the table. "So we're here to discuss what we're going to do in this Westeros."

Dinontus nodded. "And to hunt down the Daedra champions."

"Do we have any maps of this land?" Severus asked as he took his seat.

Rikke nodded. "We do, but for all we know it could be horribly out of date, it's over four hundred years old." She took out a piece of parchment and spread it out, revealing a map of a tall thin continent that extended to the north of the map but met the sea at the south. "This map came from Westeros during the time of the Septim Empire when a trader crossed the Eastern Sea in an attempt to find new locations." Rikke explained. "He arrived here." She pointed to the South Eastern corner of the continent. "In a city called Oldtown, apparently the largest in Westeros."

Severus slowly nodded. "Then that's where we're headed. How many men do you have?"

"Four infantry Centuries, one Equite Century, around eight hundred men." The Legate stated. "Along with your men we should have enough to combat anything barring entire armies the champions throw at us."

Erik looked at the map for a moment. "Do we have any idea who these champions are?"

Severus looked over at Dinontus who only shook his head. "The Shamans said nothing about who the champions were, only that some of the Princes won't send theirs. Thankfully neither Molag Bal or Mehrunes Dagon will be sending theirs, according to Malacath anyway."

There was a slight sigh of relief from the other three. "Thank the Nine." Rikke muttered. "With luck we won't be dealing with a Daedric invasion then."

"And if that happens?" Guilliman asked.

Rikke looked at him and glanced at Severus. "Then we try to stop it and send word to General Tullius."

"You know the Empire isn't strong enough yet to fight off another Daedra invasion." Severus sighed slightly as he looked at the map again. "The last war with the Elves cost us too much."

"There are still the Legions of High Rock." Dinontus said, with some measure of pride. "They have been unaffected by the last war and we can muster the Orcs if needed. Not to mention your 'Hammer of the Elves' could probably raise his own army if he wanted to."

Severus, Rikke and Erik looked at Dinontus and there was silence in the room for several seconds before Severus finally spoke. "The Empire cannot demand Jarl Balgruuf call the Carls of Skyrim, it was one of the concessions the Empire made after the war with the Elves, to stop another Civil War happening."

Guilliman shrugged. "I'm sure he could be convinced. And even in the courts of High Rock there have been whispers of those wanting jarl Balgruuf the Greater as Emperor, not Empress Elisif."

"Enough of this." Severus warned. "Legate, we're done here for the time being. Tell your men we sail for Oldtown." He picked up the map and folded it, planning on reading it later. "Oh, and I think it's best we stop off at Raven Rock on our way to the Eastern Sea, Ash Yams are probably the easiest food to preserve on the whole continent."

Rikke nodded and left, but not before aiming a glare at the Breton.

* * *

 _Castle Black, The North, Westeros_

"Right you useless bunch of thieves, gather round!" Thorne yelled out around the square to the multiple new recruits to the Night's Watch present. In a few seconds they were all in a group standing in front of Thorne and Eadric, who was standing to Thorne's left and resting a practise axe on his shoulder. "This man here has killed sods like you before. So rather than have you all twat at each other like boys you're going to try beating him."

The various recruits looked at the Nord though Jon was the only one to look slightly worried by the prospect. "He going to use that axe?" Grenn asked, gesturing with his practise sword to the axe in the Nord's hand.

"Aye he's going to use it." Thorne replied with a scowl. "Plenty of Wildlings use axes like that, especially the Thenns, and you don't want to face a Thenn." The training master looked around the group of recruits. "Grenn, why don't you go first." He said with an evil smirk.

Grenn glanced at the large Nord who swung the axe down from his shoulder and held it in both hands. With a muttered curse he stepped forward and the other recruits backed up to form a semi circle. With a yell he charged in much the same way he had when first facing Jon and swung widely to the right. Eadric reacted nearly instantly and moved the handle of his axe to push the sword aside and redirect it past him and in the same motion brought the flat of the axe head against the side of Grenn's face, sending him stumbling to the floor painfully and pushing a hand against the side of his face.

Thorne rolled his eyes. "Rast, see how he handles a raper."

The recruit in question, Rast, stepped forward and glanced at the still prone Grenn before facing Eadric and raising his sword. Without a word or yell like Grenn had, he charged swinging left rather than right. Eadric again moved the haft of the axe to move the blow aside but Rast only swung again. Backing up to dodge the next swing Eadric swung the axe one handed causing Rast to duck but when he stood back up at full height the Nord was already there. Grabbing Rast by the neck, Eadric lifted him off the ground by a few inches and held him there for a second or two before throwing him to the floor.

As Rast scrambled back to the group and nursed his neck Thorne smirked. "That is how a Wildling fights. Any of you cunts think you can still take him on?" There was silence from the recruits for over a minute and Thorne just sighed. "Pyp, let's see how far you get."

Pyp glanced between Thorne and Eadric a few times, looking very nervous. Eventually he stepped forward and raised his sword. Before he could advance though, Eadric charged with a roar eliciting a meek yelp from Pyp who jumped back and dropped his sword.

"Pathetic." Thorne sneered. "Lord Snow, show him what a bastard can do."

Jon nodded slightly and stepped forward to face the Nord and raised his sword while Eadric again grasped the haft of the axe in both hands. The two shared a nod and slowly circled each other, looking for an opening. Soon Eadric repeated the charge he'd used on Pyp and roared but unlike before his opponent didn't so he swung the axe at Jon, who quickly rolled out of the way and tried to slash the Nord's back. Using the same trick he'd used in their first spar, Eadric backhanded Jon in the side of the face after the practise sword slid easily off of his mail armour. Jon reeled from the force of the impact but quickly raised his sword again in a one handed grip.

"Hey, Jon hit him!" Pyp called out, followed by murmurs of agreement from the other recruits, except Grenn who was still nursing the side of his face which had swelled a bit.

Thorne just shrugged. "He's wearing armour."

Before Pyp could protest again Eadric went back on the offensive, swinging the axe wide and keeping it going by moving it over his head so he didn't have to try stopping the swing, which Jon responded to by backing out of the way of each wing and trying to get in light nicks against the Nord's armour. This continued for a few moments until Jon stumbled on the damp floor and fell to the floor, just missing one of Eadric's swings. Ashe scrambled up Eadric stopped swinging and hefted the axe into the air before bringing it down on Jon, who quickly rolled out of the way and struck down on the haft of the axe as it was planted in the ground, causing it to fall out of the Nord's hand.

As the now weaponless Eadric backed up from the advancing Jon the assembled recruits cheered as it seemed one of their number had beaten the Nord. Thorne however just crossed his arms. "Fight's not over yet."

Rast, who was still rubbing his sore neck glared up at Thorne. "But Snow just disarmed him."

"You really he think _he_ needs a sword to fight you?" He gestured to the seven foot tall Nord who was still backing up but carefully watching Jon, looking for an opportunity.

Jon meanwhile pointed his sword tip at Eadric. "Do you yield?"

Eadric looked Jon in the eye and then glanced around his immediate vicinity, looking for anything to use as a weapon. Finding nothing he glanced down at his belt where his Saex was still sheathed. Sighing slightly as he dismissed the idea he shrugged. "Fine, I yield."

The recruits cheered for a moment until Thorne glared at them, causing them to shut up instantly. "Go clean yourselves up." He instructed and they all quickly filtered off, most heading to the armoury, leaving only Thorne and Eadric in the square. "Why didn't you do it?" He asked, pointedly glancing down at the Nord's Saex.

Eadric shrugged slightly as he picked up the axe from the ground. "Didn't want to kill him."

...

Eadric leant against the side of the trench of ice on the top of the wall and Tyrion pissed off the side of it. To his side Jon chuckled as the two watched the dwarf make good on his promise. When Tyrion finished he pulled up his trousers and turned, jumping down the small step he'd been standing on. "I'm Sorry to see you leave, Lannister." Jon said with a slight smile, the first Eadric had seen.

Tyrion looked aguely surprised by the statement, as if he hadn't been expecting any kind of sorrow on Jon's part. "It's either me or this cold, and it doesn't seem to be going anywhere." He joked.

"Will you stop at Winterfell on your way south?" Jon asked.

Tyrion smirked. "I expect I will, gods know there aren't many feather beds between here and Kings Landing."

Jon nodded. "If you see my brother Bran, tell him I'd visit if I could."

"Of course." Tyrion said with an understanding look on his face.

"He'll never walk again." Jon continued.

Tyrion shrugged slightly. "If you're going to be a cripple, it's better to be a rich cripple." He offered another smile before turning to Eadric. "So have you decided if you're staying here to freeze your cock off or coming south with me?"

The Nord chuckled and shook his head. "I'm staying here. Mormont has a point, this was built for more than just a lot of men with axes and spears, you have more on this side of the wall."

"I'm not going to be able to convince you, am I?" Tyrion asked with a smirk.

"No, you're not." Eadric chuckled before holding out a hand. "Farewell, Lannister."

Tyrion shook it and turned to face both of them. "Good luck Haraldsson, Snow." He nodded his head before leaving, heading towards where the lift was held.

After Tyrion left Jon looked over the other side of the wall and stood where Tyrion had when he was relieving himself. "Glad you're staying, Nord."

Eadric joined him on the small ledge and looked over the vast landscape. "Doubt your fellow recruits will like that I'm staying." He noted.

"Give them time." Jon stated as he looked down at the floor next to the bottom of the wall. "Why didn't you use your knife? I saw you look at it, you wanted to."

The Nord glanced at Jon for a moment before drawing the Saex from its sheath. "You know what this is made of?"

Jon looked at him, confused. "Steel, isn't it?"

Eadric shook his head. "Not just steel, Skyforge Steel." As if to demonstrate he thrust the blade into the side of the ice trench they were standing in, the blade sunk deep, almost to the hilt. "Strongest steel in Tamriel. Would've probably killed you if I used it."

"Skyforge?" Jon repeated and gave a look of thought. "Sounds like Valyrion Steel. Never needs sharpening and can cut through most armours."

"Skyforge needs sharpening, though according to Eorland the truly ancient Skyforge weapons didn't." Eadric explained as he yanked the Saex out of the wall.

Jon looked up at the Nord. "Well, I'm glad you're with us." For the first time since Eadric had known him the boy gave a semblance of a smile. "You going to take the Oath?"

Eadric grinned and shook his head. "By the Nine no, I have a wife to think about."

* * *

 _Raven Rock, Solstheim, Tamriel_

As the small rowing boat made it closer to the docks Severus saw just how much the Dunmer colony had changed since he was last here. While then it was the destitute backwater of the Dark Elven domains, now it was clearly a thriving mining town. The Bulwark had been extended further down the coast and there were houses as far as the ancient stone that Miraak had once corrupted.

Waiting for him at the docks, and to no one's surprise, was Adril Arano, Second Councillor of Raven Rock. When the boat got close enough to the docks Severus stepped out of it. "Councillor, good to see you." The Imperial said with a nod.

"Semponius, the First Councillor will be happy to host you but..." He pointedly looked at the large Imperial fleet anchored in the harbour. "House Redoran will not be able to host such a large force, nor would it be inclined to."

Severus nodded slightly and glanced over his shoulder as Erik joined him. "We do not wish to burden you with our presence for long, we just wish to purchase some of this year's harvest of Ash yam, we're heading on a long voyage."

Adril stroked his chin slightly. "I think we can manage that Semponius. I'll speak with Garyn, I'm sure he has plenty of surplus that needs selling."

"We'll pay full price for it if he does." The Imperial stated, which drew a almost imperceptible smile from the Dunmer.

Before the two could continue the conversation someone neither expected approached. "Ah, Dragonborn. I see the rumours were correct." Neloth spoke, a smug expression on his face.

"What rumours?" Arano asked, turning back to Severus.

Severus sighed slightly. "We're sailing across the Eastern Sea, past Akivir."

Adril narrowed his eyes. "I see now why you want the Ash Yams." He muttered as he turned to walk back to the town proper, no doubt to speak to Garyn, town farmer.

"So." Neloth spoke up. "Where in Westeros will you be landing?"

"Oldtown."

Neloth nodded slightly. "Makes sense, the second largest city. But why not arrive at Kingslanding?"

Sevrus looked at him, confused. "Kingslanding?"

"The Capital of the Seven Kingdoms of course." Neloth sighed and pointedly rubbed his forehead. "You act as if you're using horrendously outdated maps."

The Imperial crossed his arms. "We're using the most up to date map the Empire keeps, four hundred years old."

"By Malacath's toenails you couldn't possibly use a more inaccurate map." THe Telvanni mage-Lord exclaimed. "I will be coming with you."

Severus raised an eyebrow, this wasn't like Neloth. "I thought you were more the stay at home and send lackeys out kind of mad mage."

Neloth waved dismissivly. "After the frankly pathetic... Um... What do you call it, footage!" He snapped his fingers. "That you gathered when killing a Briarheart it would be best if I gather firsthand experience on what you encounter in Westeros. And you'll have the most powerful mage in all of Tamriel with you."

"We already have Imperial Battlemages." Severus stated as he crossed his arms, he knew he wasn't going to be able to deny the Dunmer but he was damn well going to try. "And besides, what of Tel Mythren while you're gone?"

"My steward will keep it in shape." Neloth stated bluntly. "Now, I know more about Westeros than anybody with you does so it's in your best interests to have me along. I even have plenty of those Ash Yams I knew you'd come to get." He stepped out of the way to show Dwemer Spider carrying several sacks. "I was able to control one, I named him felix."

Felix the spider putted out a slight amount of steam and seemed to look up at Severus expectently, causing the Imperial to sigh. "Why am I not surprised?" He was about to do something he might regret later, he was sure of it. "Fine you can come."

"Excellent." Neloth smirked as he walked past Severus and Erik to sit in the boat they'd arrived in.

At that moment Adril returned. "I've had a word with Garyn and he has a few sacks for sale." He saw Neloth sitting in the boat and shot Severus a questioning look but didn't elaborate, to which Severus only replied with an exasperated look.

* * *

 _The_ Ragged Flagon _, Riften, Skyrim_

Delvin sat in his usual place in the Ragged Flagon, he had a goblet of good High Rock wine in his hand and the accounts of the latest takings from the other holds in the other. From his place he snuck a few looks at Vex as he usually did and mentally undressed her, which was easy considering he knew what was beneath. The Imperial thieve didn't look at him but from the small sigh he knew he'd been spotted. "Delvin..." She said with a resigned voice as she motioned to the note she'd stuck on the wall of the Flagon some time ago, getting the message, Delvin returned to his reading.

"Hey, Delvin." Came Brynjolf's voice as the red haired Nord joined him. "Got a job for you."

"And what job's that then, mate?" The Breton asked as he set down the goblet of wine.

"Word is the Dragonborn's sailing over the Eastern sea." Brynjolf explained as he sat down. "To a whole new continent with its own people. And it occured to me that that means there's a whole land of people out there with full pockets just waiting to be relieved of their burden."

Delvin smirked. "I can see where this is going."

The Nord grinned. "So, you onboard?"

"I'm always onboard, Brynjolf." Delvin grinned back. "When do we set out and who are we taking with us?"

The guild master of the thieves guild looked up in thought. "I'm going to staying here, but I'm sure you can get yourself set up just fine over there. Your brother managed it in Raven Rock."

Delvin nodded slowly. "Yeah, Glover did well over there. I'll set out tomorrow. So in the meantime." He shot Brynjolf a smirk as he spoke up. "Oi! Vex! Since it's likely I won't be com-"

"Not a chance Mallory!" Vex called out from where she sat, causing both Brynjolf and Delvin to begin laughing.

* * *

 **Thanks to Hornet07 for this idea, as of now I'll list the various champions and Princes they serve at the end of each chapter. More Champions will be listed as more are introduced/revealed.**

 **Eadric Haraldsson - Hircine  
Skjor - Hircine  
Mysterious figure in black - You think it would be that easy?  
Delvin Mallory - Nocturnal, albeit unknowingly**

* * *

 **Thanks for reading.  
Before any of you PM me or review about, Neloth does actually say 'by Malacath's toenails' in game.  
And yeah I decided one of the champions would be Delvin, loved the thieves guild characters and didn't want to waste them in a throw away bit for the introduction of an OC.  
As usual feel free to leave a review, all help is appreciated.**


	6. A plan, a wolf and an old man

**Welcome back, thanks for sticking around.  
Thanks to the reviewers for all the input and support.  
Also I realise I haven't done this yet so I own nothing besides the OCs I create, which so far includes Eadric, Severus and Dinontus. The rest belong to GRRM or Bethesda respectively.**

* * *

 _Castle Black, The North, Westeros_

Eadric paced the square of Castle Black, he had become a common fixture of the yard over the two days since he'd chosen to stay at the castle. Around him the several groups of recruits practised their sword swings and in the centre was Jon, showing Grenn, Pyp and Rast how to use footwork properly. Thorne hadn't asked him to do a repeat of the little challenge a few days ago, he'd muttered something about it making Snow think too much of himself.

The door to the armoury at the side of the square opened and Thorne stepped out, carrying his longsword in his hands as he led what looked like a very, very fat recruit to the centre group of Jon and the others. "What in the Seven Hells is that?" He heard Grenn ask when he saw the new recruit.

"They'll need an eighth hell to fit him in." Pyp said with a laugh.

Shrugging to himself slightly the Nord walked over to join them as well, earning him a glare from Rast who didn't take being throttled very well. "Tell them your name." Alliser ordered, sounding bored.

"Samwell Tarly." The fat one spoke. "Of Hornhill, I mean... I was of Hornhill" He looked like he was already tired out from the short walk from the armoury. "I've come to take the black."

"Come to take the black pudding." Rast joked, which drew no response from anyone but Pyp who only smirked.

Thorne scowled. "Well, you can't be any worse than you look." He turned to Rast, who stopped smirking immediately. "Rast. See what he can do."

Rast nodded slightly and stepped in front of Samwell, who readied himself and tried to look intimidating. What followed could have been considered funny if Rast hadn't clearly taken joy in whacking at Tarly, who put up no fight whatsoever and was sent to the floor with one measly hit. "I yield!" Samwell begged. "I yield, please no more!"

Alliser rolled his eyes. "On your feet, pick up your sword." When Tarly didn't stand he looked at Rast. "Hit him, until he finds his feet." Rast again nodded and began whirling blows down onto the still prone Samwell. After a few strokes Rast stopped. "Seems they run short of poachers and thieves down south, now they send us squealing bloody pigs." Jon, who had up until now stepped forward, probably to help Samwell up but was stopped by Pyp. "Again. Harder." Thorne instructed to Rast again.

The strokes fell again and again Tarly begged. "Enough!" Jon called out. Both Rast and Thorne looked at him. "He yielded." Both glared at him as he moved forward and pulled Tarly to his feet.

"Looks like the bastard's in love." Thorne spat out. "Alright, Lord Snow. You want to defend your lady love, let's make it an exercise. You two." He motioned at Pyp and Grenn to join Rast. "Three of you ought to be sufficient to make lady piggy squeal." He crossed his arms and smiled maliciously. "All you gotta do is get past the bastard."

Eadric crossed his arms and watched, already knowing the outcome. "You sure you want to do this?" Jon asked Grenn as the three advanced.

Grenn shook his head and was visibly worried. "No." He glanced at Pyp who looked equelly concerned. Rast, however, was not and immediately charged and received a kick to his crotch and fell to the floor in agony. Pyp then tried his luck only to get an elbow to the side of the face. Last of all was Grenn who put up the best fight and traded a couple of blows with Jon before being kicked away. Jon advanced on his and he quickly dropped the sword. "Yield, yield, yield. I yield."

Thorne scowled again as Grenn pciked up his sword. He glanced at Eadric, who has up until now just stood nearby and watched. "You want to try, Nord?" The question caused Samwell to look at the Nord and he looked visibly terrified that the giant of a man might be set against Jon and himself.

"It's not Jon who needs to learn." Eadric shrugged.

Alliser glanced at Tarly and smirked evilly. "What do you Nords do to fat ones anyway?"

Eadric looked at Thorne and then at Samwell, who was now looking at the Nord with a mixture of fear and curiosity. "We don't get many fat ones in Skyrim, wolves tend to get them."

Thorne nodded slightly and turned back to the recruits. "We're done for the day. Go glean the armoury, all you're good for." He scowled at them again before walking off.

Eadric looked at Jon and the others before making to follow Thorne. "So much for the noble place to go for second sons." He muttered as he caught up with the older man.

"He isn't a second son." Thorne said as he walked up the stairs to the castles main hall. "He's the first son of Randyll Tarly." Alliser opened the door and walked in, holding it for the Nord. "Best fucking general in the Reach and _that_ thing is his son." He walked to the back of the room and took two mugs along with a jug of ale. "At least Snow can fight, but that fat fuck..." He said is disgust as he poured the ale into one mug and held it out to Eadric.

The Nord took it and drank a bit of the ale. "Would've thought his father would've made sure he trained for war."

"That's why he's here." Thorne muttered as he drank. "His father drove him out when his actual second son did well in training, the fuck we supposed to do with him?"

"You will do with him as you have all the other recruits." An old, faint voice came from behind the two. Turning to see who it was, Eadric saw the old steward of Castle Black.

Thorne looked at the steward and nodded slightly, his scowl gone. "Of course, Maester Aemon."

The old man shuffled over to the table and felt for the seat, when his hand found he sat down with a sigh. "Good to rest the old bones. So." He looked slightly to the side of the Nord, probably guessing where he was. "You're the Nord?"

"Aye, I am." Eadric said with a slight nod, even though the man couldn't see it. "And you're one of these Maesters I keep hearing about?"

"Yes, yes I am." The old man spoke."Sworn to the Citadel and the Watch both. Tell me, why is a Son of Skyrim in Westeros?"

Eadric looked at him, no one had asked him this yet and he wasn't about to reveal who his master was. "I was hired to guard a merchant." He lied, hopefully convincingly. "Shipwrecked off the coast and I walked for days before I arrived at Winterfell."

Aemon didn't speak for a few seconds. "Ser Alliser, would you allow me and our friend some privacy for a moment?"

Thorne looked at him for a moment before downing his ale. "Of course, maseter Aemon." He stood and nodded to the Nord before leaving, probably looking for recruits to yell at.

When the door closed Aemon spoke again. "Would you mind telling me the truth, son of Skyrim?"

The Nord sighed. "How did you know?"

"I grew up in Kingslanding." Was his simple answer.

Eadric sighed again. "How much do you know of the Nine?"

The Maestor looked upwards, as if remembering. "The Nine Divines, Akatosh, Mara, Kynareth, Julianus, Stendarr, Dibella, Arkay, Zenithar and Tiber Septim. We have a few tomes on the Empire in the library and I read them many a time before age caught up with me." He said with a chuckle.

Eadric nodded slowly. "Well I'm here to serve the one who commands me, just he's quite lenient about what I do."

Aemon nodded again. "The Lord Commander says you're not to take the Black."

"I have a wife, she's with child."

"Ah, love." He smiled slightly. "Do you have any duties, Harald's son?"

"To my Jarl, my Hold and my Kin. Same as every Nord." Eadric said, wondering where the old man was going.

The old maester's smile didn't falter. "Sounds like the Tully words 'Family, Duty, Honour'. Well." He said as he stood up slowly, his bones audibly creaking. "I'll leave you be, but first I will give you some advise, love is the death of duty." The old man left and not for the first time Eadric was left alone in an area of Castle Black.

* * *

 _Eastern Sea_

The sound of steel clashing rang out across the _Shivering Maiden_ and the nearby sea. Backing up, Frothar raised his shield to block Erik's attack and tried to lung with his blade, only for the older Nord to swat the blade aside with his own shield. "Don't aim for my shielded side, try and hit me above or below the shield." Erik instructed as he pushed his advantage over the teenager.

"But you'll just block them with your shield." Frothar said as he again raised his shield to block another, harder strike. Before he could retaliate Erik attacked again successively, hitting the shield several times.

"Then try something else." The older Nord said, backing up. Frothar gritted his teeth and attacked again, charging with his shield forward and trying to knock Erik off balance. When their shields collided Erik stood firm and used his superior weight and strength to push back, throwing Frothar off balance instead, sending him back and nearly falling over while also dropping his sword. Before the young man could fall Erik caught him and pulled him up. "Right, I think that's enough for one day. Go get some rest." Frothar nodded and picked up his dropped sword before walking to the back of the ship, towards the cabins.

"He takes after his uncle more than his father doesn't he?" Came a voice from behind him.

Erik turned to see Severus standing just behind him, clearly having watched the training session. "Aye, he does." He nodded slightly, then smirked. "Bet Lydia taught him a lot when he grew up."

Severus laughed and nodded. "Yes, I bet she did." He looked over the side of the ship and out across the sea, just spotting the northern coast of Akivir on the horizon. "By the Nine I'm missing her already, but I'd rather she stay in Skyrim than go where we are."

Erik nodded and spotted another member of the retinue making his way over, with a nod the man spoke. "Ysmir, the Legate wants to speak to you." He gestured to the bow of the ship, where Rikke was studying a map alongside Neloth, who currently seemed to be busy explaining to some poor sod how to make canis root tea just the way he liked it.

"Well let's not keep her waiting." Severus muttered before walking towards the Legate.

As Severus and Erik approached the small two, Neloth's voice could be clearly heard "-You put the root in halfway through the boiling process you fool, not at the start. Try again." The attendant grimaced and poured the liquid over the side of the ship before trying again, cursing under his breath. "Ah you're here, good." Neloth said when he spotted Severus and Erik. "I still have some friends alive in Westeros from when I was last there..." Eyebrows rose around him and the Dark Elf just shrugged. "I do travel now and then. Anyway." He continued. "Around twenty years ago there was a massive Civil War between several of the great houses." He pointed at the map on the table.

"House Targeryan conquered the Seven Kingdoms and ruled them for three hundred years from Kingslanding." He pointed at the city on the map, roughly in the middle but on the eastern coast in a bay. "Before one of their princes kidnapped the daughter of Lord Rickard Stark, who ruled the North for the King." The area he gestured to encompassed around half the continent of Westeros. "However it was really started when the King executed both the Lord and his first son. In response the new Lord of the North, the Lord of the Vale, the Lord of the Riverlands and the Lord of the Stormlands rose up in rebellion and eventually defeating the Targeryans." As he spoke he pointed at each region in order. "The new King is the old Lord of the Stormlands, Robert Baratheon, the lover of the Stark the prince kidnapped."

"Never thought I'd see the day Ulfric's War looked simple." Rikke muttered. "As master Neloth suggested when he first came aboard we'll dock in Kingslanding and begin our search from there. With luck, the King will see our urgency and allow us to pursue the champions unmolested."

As they were discussing the plans Dinontus approached them. "I doubt we'll run into opposition, there's only several hundred of us after all."

Rikke crossed her arms. "Five hundred and forty heavy infantry along with one hundred and sixty heavy cavalry, as well as the Dragonguard." Severs rolled his eyes as she used the nickname his retinue had gained over the years. "He wouldn't just let such a force roam around at will, chances are he hasn't even heard of us."

"Oh I assure you they have tomes on Tamriel." Neloth spoke as he sipped his finally prepared tea. "Though all they have came from the Septim Empire so expect their knowledge to be horrendously out of date. I wouldn't be surprised if they expect us to all wield Daikatanas and wear that clunky old armour your Legion used to be so fond of."

The Legate nodded slowly. "If the King refuses us entry we can begin our search in Essos earlier than planned, then move back into Westeros when the situation there has been contained."

"What about this area?" Dinontus asked as he pointed to a small bit of land at the top of Westeros called 'Beyond the Wall'. "Couldn't we try there if the King rebukes us?"

Neloth shook his head. "To try would just cause more problems, the Wall they mention is defended by a group called the Night's Watch, and they'll only try to drive us off if we landed."

Severus nodded slightly. "Regardless, we'll try Kingslanding first and if that fails sail across the..." He looked at the map again. "... Narrow Sea. For now though we have to get there." The others nodded and began to trickle off, eventually just leaving Neloth and Severus. "One thing I don't get is, what do you gain from coming with us?"

The Dark Elf looked up from the map and his tea. "It's very simple. The people of Westeros haven't seen magic in over a century, I figure that once I show off a bit they'll grant me a large amount of their tomes, maybe a few Dragon Eggs."

"I'll never say I've gotten on with you Neloth, but one thing I will give you is you know how to act like a mad mage."

Neloth smirked and sipped his tea. "I try, by Malacath's toenails do I try."

* * *

 _The Haunted Forest, North of the Wall, Westeros_

Cotter ran, that's all he could do. That thing killed the rest of his band and he knew he was next so he ran, ran for dear life. Behind him the sound of tree branches snapping drove him further onward, knowing that the beast was getting closer and closer.

Ahead of him was a small frozen river that ran from the frostfangs all the way to the bay of Seals. Knowing it was his best chance he leaped down onto it and ran along it, hoping by all the gods that he could find the cave he and his band had used for shelter mere days before. The sound of the beast slowed and soon couldn't be heard against the sound of hard boots thudding against the hard ice.

Seeing the cave he dived into it and franticly looked around for something he could use to defend himself. Finding a spear one of the band had probably left he braced himself for what was to come, but it never did. Silence was all that surrounded him and it unnerved him more than any sounds the beast could make would. He cursed himself for his luck, for trying to rob that man they'd found in the forest that day. When they'd found him he was just wandering around with a sword on his hip and shield on his back and armour, armour of the likes he'd never seen. It was steel and carved in a way that made it beautiful, if terrifying.

If they had known what that man would've done they would've let him be, let the White Walkers get him, let him become one of theirs. instead they held their weapons at him and demanded everything he had in exchange for his life. It was then that it happened. The man had started convulsing nearly immediately, at first they thought he was sick but he wasn't. The man's arms had extended and fur had grown from his body. Soon he had transformed into a monster, nine feet tall and shaped like a wolf. With a roar he had charged the small band of Free Folk and tore the ones unlucky enough to be near him apart, the ground had been soaked in blood.

After that they all ran but Cotter had looked back and what he saw sickened him to the bone. back at the corpses of their fallen clan brothers the monster was hunched over them and was devouring them. When Cotter had looked at the spectacle, terrified, its head had shot up to look at him, it's deep red eyes burrowed into him and he was completely taken by fear, fear of that thing. So he ran.

For now though there was silence, only the dripping of water in the cave broke the terrifying silence. Fighting away his fear, Cotter inched towards the entrance of the cave, spear held forward and ready to strike. Soon he came to the entrance, he looked around, no sign of the beast. Tentatively stepping out he hoped it'd given up and maybe returned to its last kills.

All those hopes were dashed when he heard the growl above him, just above the top of the cave entrance. The soft clink of claws on stone sapped everything out of him and he stood, frozen solid with fear, maybe it would leave soon, maybe it would let him live. The thing breathed heavily, very heavily. Every half a second he saw a gust of steam break just over the top of the cave, the breath of the monster. For over a minute he stood, paralysed by his own fear and desire for survival. For over a minute the breath of the monster was visible. Eventually the heavy breathing stopped and the steam disappeared. Breathing a sigh of relief, Cotter thought he could fall sleep where he stood. But then the breathing started again, from behind him.

The last thing Cotter felt was the claws of the Werewolf dig into his back as he was dragged back into the cave.

* * *

 **Eadric Haraldsson - Hircine  
Skjor - Hircine  
Mystery person - Try guessing  
Delvin Mallory - Nocturnal**

* * *

 **Thanks for reading we finally get a look at what Skjor has been up to while North of the Wall.  
Also, sorry for the relative lack of the other champions, I'd rather avoid having to do the journey of every single one and some are being kept under wraps for reasons you'll eventually find out.  
As always feel free to leave a review or PM me, all feedback is helpful and wanted.**


	7. A ship, a hand and a golden cloak

**Sorry for the delay on this one, been busy and this one took a few rewrites.  
Hope you enjoy the read.**

* * *

 _Kingslanding, Crownlands, Westeros_

Severus gazed at the vast city as the _Shivering Maiden_ slowly made its way into the harbour while the rest of the sizable fleet stayed further back in the bay, in particular looking at the sheer size of the red stone castle that sat at the top of a hill. When they'd first entered the bay a large fleet of warships had approached and flew the flag of warning but backed down when the Imperial ships had flown the flag of peace, apparently maritime flag codes were universal. As the ship neared the wooden pier some of the crew picked up large bundles of rope and threw them to the dockhands already waiting for them. After the ship was tied to the harbour Severus pushed himself off the railing and walked over to the gang plank that was being set down.

"Seems we've already attracted attention, Sev." Erik muttered from his place next to the Imperial as a group of armoured men marched down the pier.

Severus nodded slightly to Erik. "To be expected." He turned to look over both his shoulders. "Is Rikke coming?"

"She said it would be best if you handled this, and she flat out told Neloth he wasn't making first contact." Erik explained with a slight smirk.

"Sounds like Rikke." Severus muttered as he descended the plank. "Remember what she did with that Elf Lord in Cheydinhal."

Erik laughed. "How could I forget the look on that smug bastards face when she just stuck her blade in his stomach."

Severus grinned at the memory for a few moments but returned to a passive face when the armoured men reached them. The first thing that struck him was their golden cloaks, like his and Eriks. "On the order of the Hand of the King, you are to follow us." The one at the front of the group stated matter of factly.

The Imperial and Nord shared a glance at the order but Severus soon nodded. "Very well, take us to the King's hand." When one of the men scowled at him before turning to walk back the way he came he glanced back at Erik and rolled his eyes. When they two set off two of the men fell into step behind them, no doubt keeping them from leaving.

...

The Red Keep, as Severus had by now been told was its name, was truly amazing in size and scope. Dwarfing both Dragonsreach and the Blue Palace and maybe even rivalling the White Gold Tower had it still been standing. Their golden cloaked escort led them through the keep and soon to a large hall. At one end was what looked like a throne but not any ordinary one, it seemed to be made out of melted down swords though the effect was obvious, it was the throne of a conqueror.

Passing through the hall they were led to a smaller chamber and upon entering they found a long table with five individuals sitting around it, an old man, a bald man, two middle aged men and another who looked very similar to the former jarl of Windhelm. The armoured men who had led them this far stopped and the lead one bowed. "Lord Stark, the men from the ships." He stepped to the side and gestured to Severus and Erik.

"Yes, thank you." The one who looked like Ulfric said, clearly this was Lord Stark. "Leave us." The guard bowed again and left, his men following behind him. "You're the leader of this fleet that arrived unannounced?" Stark asked, focusing on Severus.

"Yes Lord Stark. I am Severus Semponius, Thane of Whiterun Hold and servant of the Empire of Tamriel." Severus said with a nod before gesturing to Erik.

"I'm Erik, Carl to Thane Semponius." Erik said with his own nod.

The bald one raised an eyebrow. "Forgive me, Thane. But you say of Tamriel, we haven't had visitors from since before Aegon the Conqueror landed. Why are you here."

Well, no point in beating around the bush with this. "I'm afraid we're here to hunt down some people, from Tamriel. They are incredibly dangerous and it's imperative we find them."

Stark looked at him for a few moments. "And what of those other ships? How many men have you brought?"

"Eight hundred and forty." Severus simply stated.

There was a few moments of silence as the various men sat around the table looked at each other. Finally the old one spoke up. "And how are you to feed this many men, even if the Hand does allow you to land?"

"We have supplies to last a week, after that we were hoping to buy provisions from the local merchants and farmers." The Imperial replied, eyeing the old man.

"If you pay fair price you may buy what you wish." Stark said calmly before stroking his short beard and sighing. "Very well you may land, but your camp is to be outside the city walls and you are to report to me everything that happens, I want to know where your men will be at all times."

Severus nodded. "Your terms are fair, we accept." He turned to leave but one of the other men, clearly the youngest, spoke up.

"Will you be coming to the tourney of the Hand, you look like riders?" The man had short dark brown hair and a full beard.

"A tourney?" Severus had heard of them before, they were supposedly quite popular in High Rock as a means of 'playing' at war since the Bretons hadn't gotten seriously involved in either of the Great Wars.

Stark sighed. "The King insists the capital hold a tourney in my honour, something that we can't afford."

"The realm prospers at such an event, my Lord." The bald one spoke.

"And fills the brothels." The other middle aged man spoke up, he was gaunt and looked to have some white in his otherwise dark brown hair.

Stark once again sighed and glared at the last one to speak before looking back at Severus. "You may leave now, Thane. Just make sure to send me reports on what you're doing."

Severus bowed his head slightly. "Of course, farewell my lords." He nodded again before leaving, followed by Erik. Once they were out of the chamber Severus let out a breath. "Well, that went better than expected."

"That lot are worse than the Empress's court." Erik muttered.

"That they are." The two came again to the main hall of the keep, where the throne made out of swords was. As they passed by it Severus slowed and eventually stopped to look at it. "I wonder how many swords it took to make that." He thought aloud.

"The stories say a thousand." The voice of the bald one from the council rang around the hall, the two turned to face him. "Forgive me, I am Varys, master of whisperers for the King." He looked at the throne behind them. "The Iron Throne of Westeros, I imagine it looks mundane compared to your Emperor's throne."

Severus looked behind him at the Iron Throne again but shook his head slightly. "The Empress sits on a simple throne in the Blue Palace." He looked back at Varys. "Though I don't doubt the old throne was just as imposing."

Varys smiled slightly. "An Empress, how interesting." He chuckled slightly, why the Imperial and Nord couldn't guess. "I shall bid you both farewell. If you ever need something, find me."

"I'll make sure to, Lord Varys." Severus spoke and gave the man a nod.

"Just Varys, I'm no more a lord than a beggar in Fleabottom." He bowed his head and left the two, exiting through the door the they'd first come in when being escorted by the gold cloaks.

Severus watched the man leave before beginning to move himself, followed quickly by Erik. "Come on, I bet Rikke is itching to get off the ship."

...

Janos Slynt, commander of the City Watch, sat on his horse just outside of the city walls, flanked by a few of his officers. Why these strange people from across the sea were here he didn't know and frankly he didn't care, all he cared about was the probable havoc they'd cause if they stayed too long.

"M'lord, there they are." The Gold Cloak to his right said as he pointed down the road. Sure enough there was a column of men with banners marching down the road that lead from the beach. "Wait... Is that?" The same man talked to himself as he peered closer, probably trying to get a closer look at the banners. When they did come into view Slynt balled his hands into fists, they had Dragons on their banners. And that wasn't all, as they passed it became clear that every single one of them was outfitted for war, all wearing matching heavy armour and carrying packs over their shoulders that held swords and shields along with other equipment.

"Steady lads." Slynt ordered, knowing some of the Gold Cloaks would be ready to dart back into the city, worthless bunch of cowards that they were.

Behind the long column of marching soldiers, that seemed to be broken up into four uniform groups judging by the slight gaps in the formation, rode a large company of cavalry. They were different to the infantry, instead of the plate armour they all wore mail and carried their weapons in their hands while their kit was strapped to their horses. A the front of the cavalry was another banner carrier, along with what looked like the commander of the unit since he was wearing the plate armour of the foot soldiers, at least he thought it was a he, the persons face was hidden by the helm.

After the cavalry company passed another, smaller group came. They too rode horses but these ones were heavier and their riders were outfitted in what looked like scale-mail armour and wore gold cloaks themselves. Great, things will be confusing enough without another bunch of gold cloaked soldiers walking around.

Riding at the head of the golden cloaked cavalry was the person he'd been ordered to speak to, to make sure everything smoothly as the small but no doubt formidable army set up outside his cities walls. Kicking his horse into action Slynt rode over, flanked by his officers. "Hail, Lord Severus." He called when he was close enough to be heard. The foreigner heard him and nodded to the men surrounding him before breaking off from the small formation, flanked by two of his own men. "His Lord Hand has ordered me to oversee you as you set up camp." He spoke in his authoritative tone, well honed over the years. "To ensure nothing untoward happens."

"I'm a Thane, not a Lord." Severus stated. "And the Lord Hand is gracious in his support."

Slynt scowled inwardly but kept up the passive exterior, he already disliked the man. "Of course, Thane." He eyed the black armour of the man, too similar to the black armour of the old Targaryens for his liking, especially since the solders before had carried dragon banners. "You've already chosen a camp site?"

"Yes, we have. Legate Rikke is leading the men to set it up." He gestured to the cavalry unit that had passed them and was now some way in the distance, heading to the edge of the Kingswood along with the footmen. "I assume there're lumber camps nearby." He added, looking at Janos expectantly.

"There are. Pay full price and we'll have no issues." The commnader of the City watch said with a slight bit of warning in his tone. "Don't want to hear stories about people not paying properly, not around here."

Severus nodded his head slightly. "I told the Hand we'd pay full price and that's what we'll do." The man pulled on the reins of his horse to turn it to the side. "Now, to the reason you're here." He kicked his horse on and trotted down the road, followed by his two men.

Scowling openly this time Slynt kicked his own horse forward, himself followed by his men. He quickly caught up with the Thane and the small group of riders were silent as they carried on down the road. As they got closer it became apparent the different units were already setting up their camp, some were pitching tents, other were digging groves in the ground. What caught his attention most was the raising dyke they were building around the camp. "Semponius." He raised his voice, causing the Imperial to look at him. "What are they doing?"

Severus looked at him for a moment, as if not understanding the question. "Setting up camp." Was his simple answer.

"And that means spoiling the Kings land?"

To Slynt's annoyance the man only shrugged. "The Hand knew we'd be setting up camp for months at the least, so we're making sure were set up for several months."

"I don't appreciate things like this just outside the city walls, be glad Lord Stark allowed this." Janos said, the threat quite clear in his voice. The Imperial nodded slightly and focused ahead again.

After a few more minutes they entered the beginnings of the large camp, most of the tents already seemed to be up and an area had already been marked off for the horses. Following the Thane they soon came to the centre of the camp where a tent larger than the others was already standing with two guards stationed outside it. Without a word the three Golden Cloaked foreigners dismounted. "You were sent to oversee us construct this camp." Severus spoke just at the entrance of the tent. "Do you have any other purpose here?"

This man was really beginning to tire Slynt. "I was told to remind you that his Lord Hand will require updates on all of your peoples movements." He nodded to his men to turn and leave but he himself stayed a few moments. leaning in closer to the Imperial he changed his tone to a clearly threatening one. "And make no mistake, I don't want you here, so I'll be watching you. And at the first mistake, I'll have the entire City Watch bearing down on you." He straightened up and smirked, that should keep him in line. Without another word he pulled on his horses reins and trotted back along the road, to catch up with his men.

...

"The City Watch Commander is a charming man." Severus said as he entered the command tent of the camp. It was currently empty bar one small table as the rest of the furniture and equipment was still being brought up by the Third Century.

"That was the one who threatened you?" Dinontus asked as he pace around the tent. Rikke and Neloth were studying the map of Westeros on the small table, both seemed more interested in their own private discussion about the best place to search first. "Not very subtle is he?"

Erik soon joined Severus's side, having also followed him inside. "Going to be confusing with them wearing golden cloaks."

"Why do you wear those cloaks anyway?" Guilliman asked, having stopped pacing. "Surely it just makes you more obvious on the battlefield, might as well carry around a banner saying "The Dragonborn is over here"."

Severus shrugged. "Colours of Whiterun." Was the simple answer.

Dinontus glanced up, as if in thought, before slowly nodding. "If you two are quite done." Neloth said, only now looking up from the map. "We have an entire Kingdom to search."

"It'll take months to search the city alone, it's bigger than the Imperial City ever was." Erik stated as he began to pace.

"Which is why, once we get fully set up here, we're going to write wanted posters and post them around the city in the taverns." Rikke chimed in, not looking up. "A decent bounty should solve most of our problems here and in the other major cities." She sighed heavily. "By the Nine I don't think we brought enough men. Eight hundred in a kingdom this size, with a city of half a million a arrows shot from out camp and at least three other major cities with the populations in the tens of thousands. If the bounties don't work we'll have to somehow search street by street, and I doubt the King will allow that."

"The bounties will likely work. Severus spoke, nodding slowly. But something else was on his mind. "Tell me, Guilliman, why couldn't your Lords send over some of the famed men-at-arms of High Rock?"

"The Lords of High Rock have their own interests to look out for." Dinontus said in a clearly well rehearsed way. "And if they were called, the last untouched force in Tamriel would be deployed, rather than ready in case the Thalmor strike again."

"The Thalmor are in no fit state to strike at the Empire, both Valenwood and Elsweyr are up in arms. By all accounts their civil war is far bloodier than the Skyrim one ever could've been." Severus retorted.

Rikke nodded slightly. "He's right Dinontus, there's even talk that separate faction in the Summerset Isle are beginning to rebel after two military humiliations in a span of just a few years."

Glancing around the room, Guilliman seemed to look for an ally in the conversation, but Neloth was ignoring the rest of them in favour of writing notes down on a piece of parchment he had next to the map. "What would you have me do? Send a Gyrfalcon back to the Blue Palace that we need to send another legion?"

"No. Not yet at least." Rikke said firmly. "The Fourth Legion overcame the Stormcloaks, it overcame he Thalmor, it'll overcome a few so called champions." She pushed herself off the small table, shaking it a bit to Neloth's dislike. "I think it's time I saw to the lumber situation."

"According to the City Watch Commander there are several nearby, we pay full price." Erik spoke up. "They'll probably charge more but by the sounds of it he's just waiting for an excuse to get rid of us."

Rikke nodded and left the tent. After a few moments of silence Dinontus stopped pacing. "I have things to see to, want to make sure my belongings made the journey safely." He too left the tent, leaving Severus and Erik with Neloth.

"So..." Severus began. "Do they know you're an Elf, the people of Westeros I mean?"

Without looking up from his notes the Dark Elf chuckled slightly. "It's amazing what the application of a hood can do when you pair it with around a hundred and sixty armoured riders."

...

Janos Slynt scowled as he watched the foreigners build their camp, watched them dig up the Kings soil to build their own dyke. He was alone, rare for him but this time he didn't want some of his officers around, they were always looking to take his position. "M'lord!" Came a voice from behind him. Looking over his shoulder he saw a figure clad in black and riding a dark brown horse, who pulled to a stop when he got near Janos.

"What do you want?" He was in no mood for hedge knights, this man looked the type.

"M'lord, I come to warn you. To warn you to keep a look out over the man called Severus." The figure spoke, he had a smooth voice, no doubt taught by some highborn how to smarm his way into and out of things. "He is more than meets the eyes, do not threaten him lightly."

"And who are you to tell me who I should and shouldn't fear?"

The figure looked at him for a moment, only his mouth was visible from under the hood he wore. "I am nobody m'lord. But I hope you heed my advice, he will cause much issue in the future, and you may not always be there to see him fall."

"That's enough! I'll not be lectured to by some hedge knight!" Slynt snapped at him. "Leave, before I decide you're worth the trouble."

The figure looked at him for a moment before nodding his head. "Very well, but do not forget what I said." He pulled the reins on his horse and soon trotted off, leaving the Watch Commander alone again.

* * *

 **Eadric Haraldsson - Hircine  
Skjor - Hircine  
Mystery person - Try guessing  
Delvin Mallory - Nocturnal**

* * *

 **Okay so there's another chapter done.**

 **Sorry it was focused nearly entirely on Kingslanding but I felt that needed a chapter devoted to it in order to set things up properly.  
Hope you enjoyed the read and as ever feel free to leave a review as all of them help and encourage me to continue.**


	8. A King, a fight and an officer

**Sorry for the delay with this one, lot of stuff has happened IRL that got in the way of this.  
Hope you enjoy the read.**

* * *

 _Kingslanding, Crownlands, Westeros_

Severus stood around the larger table that had since been brought up from the fleet to Rikke's tent and looked at the map on it. "So there's actually nine regions?"

"Yes." Neloth nodded. "Before the War of conquest there were Seven Separate Kingdoms, the North, Mountain and Vale, the Reach, Dorne, the Stormlands, the Rock and the Kingdom of Isles and Rivers. When Aegon landed and won the war he separated the Ironborn kingdom into two regions and gave himself another region to govern directly, creating the Riverlands and the Crownlands." He pointed to the neighbouring regions. "The Crownlands were created from the lords that swore to him directly after he first landed."

"Will we have to ask each province ruler for permission to search their lands?" Rikke asked.

The Dark Elf shook his head. "No, the Hand of the King has given us permission to search the whole kingdom so we won't need their permission." He stroked his beard. "Though it certainly wouldn't hurt, they could do a lot to stand in our way."

"Good thing we brought a Breton." Severus spoke and motioned to Dinontus, who was as usual pacing the tent, with his head. "If anyone can charm nobles it'll be someone who's survived the courts of High Rock."

"I'll talk to the Lords in question if and when we send men into their regions." The Breton nodded.

Rikke looked like she was about to speak before Erik entered the tent. "Severus, there's one of Lord Stark's men here to see you."

Severus nodded. "Bring him in." He glanced at Neloth who had already pulled his hood up to hide his ears.

Erik nodded and left the tent for a few seconds before returning with another man, he was wearing some form of leather armour and had long dark hair with a few days of beard growth. "Milord." He bowed. "Lord Stark wants to speak with you, he's at the tourney fields." He looked back up and narrowed his eyes when he saw Rikke.

"What's the matter, never seen a woman in armour before?" Rikke asked, a scowl on her face.

The man looked to speak but stopped before anything came out for a moment before trying again. "No m'lady. I can't say I have." He looked at Severus again. "Lord Stark awaits."

"Well lead the way then." Severus nodded to the man. "Erik." He added, gesturing to his friend to follow him.

...

The fields that had been used for the tourney of the Hand were well appointed for their role. Several acres were covered in tents and market stalls for the common folk while at the centre of the large complex was the jousting list, which probably also doubled as the area for the melee once the divider was taken away. There also seemed to be a large archery range where already men were practising their shots. Officially the tourney wasn't to start until midday so there was still a few hours for the participants to hone their skills in the various competitions they were entering.

Severus looked around as he followed the man who was leading them to the Hand of the Kings, Jory he'd learned his name was. "Wonder if we should enter the melee, Erik."

"Thinking the same thing." Erik nodded slightly. "You know if we have to do anything to enter the tourney?" He asked in Jory's direction.

"Can't say I do milord. Never entered a tourney before." The Northman answered. The trio carried on in silence for a few more minutes before Jory stopped in front of a large tent which had the Stag banners on them from the castle and a man in finely detailed white armour stood at attention by the entrance flap. "He's in here, with the King."

"The King?" Severus asked, to which the Northman only nodded slightly. Shrugging to himself slightly he entered the tent. Inside was well furnished and carpets lined the grass floor.

Lord Stark and another, fatter man were inside, both sat at a table while the other drank from a goblet of wine. "So, this is the foreigner?" The fatter one asked, this was clearly the King.

Stark looked over his shoulder and nodded. "Aye, this is him." He stood and approached Severus. "Thane Severus, I hear from Commander Slynt that you're fortifying your camp. This true?"

"It is." The Imperial nodded. "The Legion fortifies camp whenever they can and since we plan on being here for some time we went ahead with it."

"Do you expect attack?" The King asked, still holding his goblet.

Severus didn't answer for a moment, thinking over the answer. "No, your grace. Just after four years of war the men feel more comfortable with a dyke surrounding them while they sleep."

"Four years of war? What were you fighting?"

Severus paused again. "Elves, your grace."

The King looked at him for a moment and glanced at Stark before beginning to laugh. "Ha! Elves? There are no Elves."

Semponius looked at Erik for a moment and the Nord nodded to him. "Your grace." He spoke, waiting for the King to stop laughing. "We have an Elf back at camp, if you don't believe me."

Stark looked at him. "You're saying you have an Elf with you?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying, Lord Hand." Severus replied simply.

The King set his goblet down and stood, walking over to Severus. "I'll expect to see this Elf. For now..." He looked the Imperial up and down. "You look decent enough. You'll be part of the tournament?"

"I don't partake in jousting, your grace."

"Ha, then you can fight in the melee. Ned here doesn't want me fighting, thinks I might get myself injured." Robert laughed and moved back to the table, picking his goblet back up. "I fought in a war, it's what made me King and now I can't even fight in my own Hands tournament, bah." He downs the contents of the goblet in one gulp. "So tell me, what was this war you had with the Elves about? Land? Gold? A woman?"

Erik glanced at Severus and the Imperial sighed. "The survival of man, your grace."

Robert looked down at the table, silent for a few moments. "Stop calling me 'your grace' I get that enough from my wife, her lackeys and this grim northerner." He gestured to Stark without looking up. "And if what you say is true then you've fought a fiercer war than anyone here, maybe even in the whole Seven Kingdoms." The King poured himself another gobelt of wine and sat down. "Sit, all of you. LANCEL!" He shouted.

Very quickly a blonde man ran in, he was wearing what looked like leather armour and was carrying a jug of something, probably wine. "Y-yes. milord?"

"Get more wine for me, my guests and the Lord Hand." Robert said in a spiteful tone. "Go on. GO!" The last yell caused the poor boy to nearly jump and he quickly left the tent. "Now, sit. I want to hear some war stories from the two of you."

Severus glanced at Erik who nodded slightly. "What do you want to know?" He asked as he sat down on one of the chairs in the room.

"How about we start with your first kill, whose life did you end first?" He chuckled slightly.

"My first kill..." The Imperial looked up in thought. "Some Stormcloak. Was escaping a town and he got in the way."

"Stormcloak eh? Fancy name."

"Rebels, they followed Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak who wanted to break away from the Empire." Severus explained.

Stark by now had sat down. "Why did they want to break away?"

Erik grunted slightly. "It was because of the first great war. That'll take too long to explain, we have a book on it back at the camp. But the end result was we nearly lost and the Elves banned Talos, our god. Ulfrik wanted to worship freely and incited four of the nine holds to fight for him." The Hand nodded slightly and gestured for the two to continue. "My first kill was... Uh..."

"That idiot who tried to mug us on our way to Solitude." Severus finished for him, smirking slightly.

"So your first kills were a rebel and a bandit." The King laughed slightly. "Mine was some Tarly boy, first battle of the war. Thought he could end the rebellion in one swing of his sword, ha. He should've just stayed on the edge of the field like all the other clever little boys. Instead he tried to take me on." He set down his goblet, now empty. "He died shitting himself. Ned... Who was yours? You never told me." The King asked, looking at Stark.

Lord Stark frowned. "A Clawman, battle of the Trident."

"Oh one of those tough bastards." Robert laughed. "They haven't shown their faces since the war, sticking to their forests. Bet one of those ones you're looking for could hide there forever and not be found." He stated, looking at Severus.

"That rem-" Stark started speaking before being interrupted by the return of Lancel. Who quickly set down another large jug of wine before leaving without a word.

The King grinned. "Fucking finally. Go on, drink." He motioned for all three to take a drink, all of whom did. "What was that Ned?"

Stark sighed. "My bastard, Jon. Said he was heading to the wall with a Nord. Said his name was Aedric something."

Severus struggled to keep his wine down after he heard that name. "Eadric? You mean Eadric Haraldsson?"

"Aye, that's it." Stark nodded, looking a bit confused.

"Figures it would be him." The Imperial sighed, leaning forward and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You know him?"

Severus sighed again. "We've met a few times over the years. First time I saved him from some bandits, second time was killing a dragon by Whiterun."

The King looked up, narrowing his eyes. "Dragon?"

"Aye, dragons. We have, or had, a bit of a dragon problem in Skyrim several years ago. Most of the aggressive ones have been killed now."

"A few years ago?" Lord Stark put a hand to his head. "And there are still some alive where you come from?"

Erik nodded. "Aye. Most just fly and hunt now. Sure there's the occasional farm burning." The Nord shrugged. "But then we just ride out and face the beast, we've figured out how to kill them."

"Only dragons have ever killed dragons." The King state, clenching his fists. "And they were the mounts of those Targeryan bastards, you should kill them all."

Severus sighed. "We're not wiping them out, they've stopped being that much of a problem." He gulped down some of the wine in his goblet, gods he couldn't believe he missed Nord mead already. "Anyway, Lord Stark. If we have your permission we would send a Turma of cavalry to this Wall he was going to."

Stark nodded "You have it. Though it's at least a month's ride away, he might have left by the time they get there."

"He's a Nord and a Companion, they don't know how to keep a low profile." Severus shrugged and inwardly smirked at the very slight scowl Erik threw his way. "Is there anything else, King Robert?"

The King looked down at his empty goblet and refilled it. "No, you can go. I expect you to be in the melee though." Severus nodded and did a slight bow before leaving, followed by Erik. These people certainly had interesting people in power.

...

"Finally, the melee." Sansa heard the King drunkenly state as the dividers had been taken away after Loras had won the jousting, he was so beautiful, and he'd given her his token. Maybe she'd get more when she was queen one day, maybe she'd also be queen of love and beauty as well as sweet Joffrey's queen. Her thoughts were interrupted by her sister nudging her. "It's starting."

Sure enough a herald came forward and opened up a scroll. he began calling out the names of the knights and Lords taking part in the event, a few Reach Lords, Westerlands Lords and some Crownlands Lords among them. What caught her attention were the last two names. "From the Kingsguard, Jaime of house Lannister. And new to the capitol, a Thane from Skyrim, Severus Semponius of the Empire of Tamriel." She looked at her father with a questioning look.

"It's a land across the sunset sea, he's one of the ones from the fleet that arrived a few days ago." Eddard told her.

As the herald finished and rolled his scroll up the participants came forward. Most were wearing beautiful armour, nothing at all like what the Mountain or the Hound wore. Again two stood out. One was the armour of the Kingsguard, Jaime Lannister. The other wore black armour that glistened in the sunlight, his cloak was gold and on his head was a helm with what looked like a small horse fixture on the top, this must be the Thane. The assembled Lords, knights and Thane bowed to the King before splitting off into two teams.

Sansa found herself looking at the Thane as he readied his training sword and shield, one of the only ones present to sport one it seemed. When the starting trumpet sounded both teams charged at each other and the clangs of metal against metal soon filled the air. The Thane however was staying back a few feet as the Lords and knights tore at each other. Further down the seating someone shouted out, calling him out. But the Tamrielic didn't pay him any attention. Looking away from the Thane, Sansa looked back at the main fight in the melee. Ser Jaime was on the opposing team and they were quickly overwhelming their opponents. It was when a group broke off from the central fight to take the Thane out that he erupted into action.

The first to come at him wore the banner of house Hollard on his armour and was rather rotund. The war hammer he wielded looked heavy and he seemed to have trouble raising it, how could the King have ever used something like that one handed. As the hammer came down the Thane darted to the left and crashed his shield into Hollard's side and quickly brought his own weapon across the knights back, sending him to the floor with a loud thud. Moments later the Thane spun and collided his sword with the helmet of the knight who had followed Hollard.

As his second opponent fell the Thane moved forward, keeping his shield in front of him and his sword ready. Ser Jaime saw this and broke off from the, advancing on the Tamrielic. "Now this should be interesting." Lord Baelish muttered from behind her. "Renly! Care for another bet?" She heard him ask the King brother.

"Hundred gold dragons on the King slayer." Renly replied in his usual playful voice. "Always enjoy taking your money."

"Who do you think will win, father?" Sansa asked Ned.

Eddard watched the fight closely. "Could go either way." Every time Jaime attacked the Thane either moved back or raised his shield to absorb the blow, and every strike he tried to get off the Kingslayer just swatted aside with his own blade. "Though I think Semponius is hiding something."Soon the duel between the Thane and Ser Jaime was heating up, blows were being traded at lightning speed. Away from the fight between the two the team battle in the middle had carried on ferociously with both teams taking heavy losses and eventually only one of the Kingslayer's team remaining, who wore the coat of arms of Stokeworth, must be one of their knights.

As the two fought the Stokeworth knight moved forwards and tried to strike at the Thane but the Kingslayer yelled out. "He's mine!" Before hitting his own teammate in the side sharply.

"Father..." Sansa looked up at Ned, who furrowed his brow.

"He has no honour Sansa, he wants to be the one to beat the foreigner." Her father told her, patting her slightly on the knee.

Nodding slightly and looking back down at the fight the Stokeworth knight had backed away to let the two continue their fight, which was still raging. Neither the Thane nor the Kingslayer were letting up and both were becoming increasingly vicious with their attacks. Suddenly the Thane backed off, seemingly to get some distance between himself and Ser Jaime. But as Ser Jaime moved forward he began to speak, no, shout something in a language Sansa didn't understand. " _ **TIID KOL'UL!**_ " As soon as the last word left his mouth he seemed to suddenly speed up, moving faster than Sansa thought was possible. In an instant he moved forward and pushed his shield against Ser Jaime's sword, leaving him open, before bringing his own sword down onto the Kingsguards head.

As the Kingslayer held his helmeted head, trying to recover from the impact everyone in the seating watched in silence, astonished, Sansa could hardly believe it. "Father..."

"I..." Her father spoke but didn't finish, he looked just as confused as everyone else. "I... Don't know."

Back in the pit Ser Jaime dropped his sword and stormed off, while the Stokeworth knight also dropped his. "I yield!" He called out.

Soon the herald cautiously made his way back onto the field, standing by the Thane. "Thane Severus Semponius of the Empire is victorious in the melee!" There was some applause, mainly from the commoner seating. In the highborn seating only a few were clapping and the King was the only one who looked like he genuinely enjoyed the fight.

"Ha, that's how you're supposed to fight!" He yelled out before downing another goblet of wine.

As the applause dieddown the Thane left the field, handing the training sword to one of the squires before leaving the area altogether. "Where is he going father?"

He father looked at where the Thane was going. "Back to his camp I would expect, when I spoke to him it didn't sound like he actually wanted to come to this."

Sansa nodded slightly and looked back down to the tourney field, where the preparations for the next event were beginning.

...

Rikke sat at the table in her tent, going through some reports she needed to catch up with, the downside of the legion it seemed. Neloth and Dinontus were in their own tents, the day's meeting had already happened just as Severus was dragged away to speak to the Hand of the King. Severus had returned a few hours ago to say that the Hand had told him of a Nord at the Wall, a massive structure of Ice right at the top of the Kingdoms as Neloth had told her.

Her peace was interrupted by the arrival of one of the cavalry Decanii. "You wanted to see me, ma'am?"

"Yes." Rikke nodded, putting down the piece of parchment. "You're to take the second Turma north, to this." She pointed to the Wall on the map of Westeros. "There you'll look for a Nord by the name of Eadric Haraldsson and bring him back here if you can."

The Decanus hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Yes ma'am. We'll set out at once."

Rikke nodded again and the man turned to leave. "Oh and Idolaf." The man stopped and looked at her. "I want him alive preferably, as I'm sure you do as well." There was a few moments silence again before the other Nord left, leaving Rikke alone with her reports again.

* * *

 **Eadric Haraldsson - Hircine  
Skjor - Hircine  
Mystery person - Try guessing  
Delvin Mallory - Nocturnal**

* * *

 **And that's chapter 8 done, thanks for reading hoped you enjoyed it.  
Sorry for another chapter only in Kingslanding, not sure what to do with Eadric up North until we get around to the episode seven timeline.  
As always feel free to leave a review, all feedback appreciated and wanted.  
Oh and if you're unsure, yes the Decanus is Idolaf Battleborn.**


	9. A dwarf, a mother and the hill tribes

**Sorry for the wait with this one went through around 4 ideas what to have this chapter on and at one point considered skipping ahead a few months to get to the juicy stuff but decided against it, and the end result was this, hope you like it.**

* * *

 _The Crossroads, The Riverlands, Westeros_

Tyrion rode his horse down the Kingsroad, eager to get back to the capitol before Autumn began. Beside him was Yoren who was heading down the capitol as well but for different reasons than he was. He didn't mind though, he was fun to have around, always willing to crack a joke of some kind. "You stayed at the Inn at the Crossroads before?"

The Night's watchman nodded. "Aye, stayed here every time I've been down south, good beds and bread." He glanced over his shoulder at the two Lannister Men at Arms who were riding silently behind the pair. "And they usually have rooms available."

"Good, I would hate to camp down outside again." Tyrion spoke out with slight humour in his voice. "Had enough of that in the North."

Yoren laughed. "Aye, you lot do keep it a lot comfier down south."

"Well unlike you northmen we like warmth." Tyrion smirked.

The four riders fell quiet after that as they rode down the ancient paved road. Soon the Inn came into sight and they headed towards it, one of the Men at Arms behind them humming the tune to _The bear and the maiden fair_.

"Be quiet would you?" Tyrion called back to his men as he dismounted, holding out the reigns to the one who had been humming. "Stable them and meet us inside."

"Yes milord." The man nodded and took the leads of all four horses and led them to the stable. "Milord!" he called out.

Tyrion looked up at Yoren before yelling out. "What is it?"

"Riders milord! A lot of them!"

The Imp sighed and walked to the stable to see for himself. True to the Man at Arms a large number of armoured riders were trotting up the road. But what was odd about them was the armour, they were all segmented plate armour with mail underneath and wore helmets that covered their necks as well as their heads. They also all carried very large, wide shields. The rider at the front also carried a large banner that had a stylised Dragon emblazoned on it, though it certainly didn't look like a Targeryan banner. "Don't recognise the banner. Yoren, you know it?"

"Can't say I do my Lord." The Night's watchman said as he walked to them.

All four watched as the company of riders approached the Inn. When they reached it lead rider dismounted and the rest all followed suit, with the lead and one other walking over to Tyrion and the others. "Well met, this the Inn at the Crossroads?"

Tyrion looked at the man, he was tall and clearly well built but not quite as impressive as Eadric was. "Yes, it is. Can I ask who I address?"

"Decanus Idolaf Battle-born of the Imperial Legion." The man nodded and gave a sort of salute by placing his fist on his chest. "And who might you be?"

"Tyrion Lannister." The Imp nodded to the Decanus. "You wouldn't happen to be related to a person called Jon by any chance?"

Idolaf looked at him for a few moments. "Aye, he's my brother." He glanced at the two Lannister men behind Tyrion and at Yoren. "You know him?"

"I know a friend of his, Eardric." At this Idolaf raised his brow and nodded slightly to the man next to him, who moved off to rejoin the riders. "I take it you know him?"

The Nord glanced around before replying. "We're here to bring him home. How far is it to the Wall from here?"

"A few weeks if you keep to the Kingsroad." Yoren spoke. "Though you'll likely have some trouble at the Neck if you're not careful."

"What has Eadric done to warrant a small army coming after him?" Tyrion asked with a slight smirk.

Idolaf sighed. "It's not what he's done it's what he might do, we're to bring him back to Tamriel before he starts something." The Nord grimaced slightly as he spoke, clearly it was important.

"Ah, I see. Well, would you care to join me, Yoren and my men for a drink?" Tyrion asked, gesturing to the Inn.

The Nord looked over his shoulder at the rest of the riders for a moment before looking back to Tyrion and nodded. "Aye, I think I will." He took off his helmet and called over his shoulder. "Set up camp! I'll be sure to bring back a barrel of mead!" There was a small cheer from the riders who were already getting ready to settle down for the night.

Nodding to Idolaf, Tyrion entered the inn and immediately saw it was close to full, probably all the people returning from the tourney he was sure the King had hosted for Lord Stark. "I'm sorry, milord, we're all full up." The innkeeper, a woman called Heddle said with a slight bow as soon he'd walked a scant few metres.

"My men can sleep in the stable." Tyrion spoke, taking off his riding gloves. "As for myself, I don't require a large room." It was as much a joke as a means of getting a room.

Heddle looked down the hall that made up the inn before turning back. " Truly, my lord, we have nothing."

Well there was one method of getting a room left. "Is there nothing I can do" Tyrion took out a gold dragon from his coin purse and knocked on a table with it. "To remedy this?" He gestured around the hall, there was bound to be someone willing to give up a room for gold.

"You can have my room." A dishevelled traveller spoke up.

Tyrion smiled and tosses the coin over, which the man caught. "There's a clever man." He turned back to Heddle. "You can manage food, I trust?" The woman nodded and Tyrion smirked again before heading over to a table. "Yoren, Idolaf dine with me."

"Aye, my Lord." Yoren nodded. Idolaf meanwhile only grunted in agreement, his appearance had drawn the attention of several of the patrons but most were looking at Tyrion.

"My Lord of Lannister!" A bard with what Tyrion had to admit was a naturally annoying face called as he bowed. "Might I entertain you while you eat? I can sing of your father's victory at King's Landing!"

Tyrion grimaced. "Nothing would more likely ruin my supper." The bard stood from his bow, a look of annoyance on his face but that didn't last long and he instead focused his attention back on the couple he'd probably been trying to scavenge from before Tyrion had arrived, a couple who surprised Tyrion. "Lady Stark! What an unexpected pleasure. I was sorry to have missed you at Winterfell."

"Lady Stark." Heddle exclaimed with surprise before bowing.

Catelyn Stark stared at Tyrion for a few seconds before slowly standing up, not saying a word and not looking away from him, she looked angry for some reason. Pulling down her veil she looked around the hall. "I was still Catelyn Tully the last time I stayed here." She looked around the various patrons before stopping on one in particular. "You, Ser." She stepped forward. "Is that the black bat of Harrenhal I see embroidered on your coat?"

The patron in question stood slowly. "It is my lady."

"And is Lady Whent a true and honest friend to my father... Lord Hoster Tully of Riverrun?" Lady Catelyn asked, for what reason Tyrion had no idea.

The knight nodded. "She is."

Catelyn nodded to the knight and looked down the hall again, focusing on another patron. "The Red Stallion was always a welcome sight at Riverrun. My father counts Jonas Bracken amongst his oldest and most loyal bannermen."

The Bracken knight stood quickly and nodded. "Our Lord is honoured by his trust."

Tyrion sighed very slightly and looked back at Catelyn." I envy your father all his fine friends... but I don't quite see the purpose of this."

Lad Stark seemed to ignore him and instead turned around to look again, focusing on a knight with a appalling hat on. "I know your sigil as well." The third knight stood. "The twin towers of Frey. How fares your Lord, Ser?"

"Lord Walder is well, my Lady. He has asked your father for the honour of his presence on his 90th nameday. He plans to take another wife." The knight explained.

Tyrion grunted in amusement at the idea that the old man of the Riverlands was taking yet another wife but Lady Stark instead turned and walked slowly towards Tyrion. " This man." She pointed at him. "Came into my house as a guest and there conspired to murder my son, a boy of ten." What idiocy was this, Tyrion thought, looking around, surely no-one could be buying this slander. "In the name of King Robert and the good Lords you serve, I call upon you to seize him and help me return him to Winterfell to await the King's justice." As one all the knights and several other patrons drew their swords and pointed them at Tyrion.

"Take him outside." lady Catelyn instructed and Tyrion was grabbed by the knight of house Bracken and dragged outside of the inn, his two men turning and backing up, their own swords drawn. "Leave now, or stay and share your masters fate." Lady Stark spoke to them in a cold manner.

The two didn't need any encouragement and fled instantly, quickly taking their horses and riding off, no doubt the Casterly Rock.

"Lady Stark." Yoren called as he approached her. "We were both on our way to Kingslading, the Queen will know what you've done."

"It does not matter that the Queen does, soon the Imp will be in Winterfell." Lady Stark said, looking at Yoren. "I will not keep one of the Nightswatch, safe travels."

Yoren looked at Catelyn and then at Tyrion for a moment before nodding. "And to you, my lady." He shrugged apologetically at Tyrion before entering the inn again.

"At least you won't arrest a man of the nightswatch for no reason, only a Lannister." Tyrion spat.

Lady Stark ignored him and instead focused on Idolaf, who had followed the group outside and was now flanked by a couple of the other legionaries. "And who are you, Ser?"

Idolaf looked between Catelyn and Tyrion in much the same way Yoren had before placing a fist on his chest again and looking at Catelyn. "Decanus Idolaf Battle-born of the Fourth Legion, Servant of the Empire of Tamriel."

"Tamriel?" Catelyn asked, though by her tone it was clear she didn't want him answering. "And what do you think of the crimes this man has committed against my family?" She gestured to Tyrion.

The Nord glanced at Tyrion. "I wouldn't know, my lady." Behind him several others from his group of cavalry have wandered over, one resting a spear on his shoulder. "I would ask though, is Winterfell on the way to the Wall?"

"It is Ser." Lady Stark answered with a nod and glanced at the various knights who were readying their horses and seemed to judge them silently. "Will you accompany me North? The Neck can be treacherous without a symbol of the North."

Idolaf looked over his shoulder at his men and after a few of them nodded at him he turned back. "We'll ride with you, but after we arrive at Winterfell we must head North to the Wall."

"Of course, Sers." Catelyn said with a nod before walking over to her own horse and mounting it.

* * *

 _The Crossroads, The Riverlands, Westeros_

The company of legionaries and varied knights of the Riverlands had left the Inn at the Crossroads very soon after Lady Catelyn had arrested Lord Tyrion, which several of the men in Idolaf's Turma had grumbled about. Though soon after leaving they had taken an eastern road Catelyn had assured them they would get to the North sooner rather than later. After a night in the woods of the Riverlands the company had quickly found itself in rugged uplands that looked very similar to parts of the Reach.

"We'll camp here for the night." Catelyn called out to the rest of the company, who quickly dismounted horses and set about getting some rest, the bard even taking out his instrument and playing something. "Remove his hood." Idolaf heard her instruct to one of the knights, the Bracken if he remembered correctly.

The knight complied and yanked the hood off the dwarfs head and pushed him forward, causing him to stagger. As the Dwarf regained his composure he stalked over to Lady Stark, eyeing the bard who was now singing at his expense. " _On that eve, the captive Imp down-wards from his horse did limp, no more would he preen and primp, in garb of red and gold._ " Idolaf was really beginning to dislike this bard, Jon would've put more effort into it, and if Eadric were here he'd probably be hitting the man over the head with his lyre.

" This isn't the Kingsroad." Tyrion spoke, looking around at the landscape. "You said we were riding for Winterfell."

"I did." Lady Stark said, glaring at him. "Often and loudly."

Idolaf looked over at his men, one of them was getting a fire going and several others were securing the horses. Sighing slightly he looked back to Catelyn. "You said you'd get us to the Wall, if this isn't the way..."

"I'm sure she intended you to get a ship from Gulltown, probably the way she'll be getting North." Tyrion called out before looking around, making sure to look each knight and sellsword who had followed Catelyn. "They'll be out in droves, looking for me in the wrong place. Word's probably gotten to my father by now. He'll be offering a handsome reward." He looked purposefully at the man who had agreed to give him a room, who was currently sharpening his sword. "Everyone knows a Lannister always pays his debts." The man looked at him and seemed to be considering his chances. "Would you be so good as to untie me?" He gestured with his bound hands to Lady Stark.

"And why would I do that?"

Tyrion sighed and pointedly looked around the landscape. "Why not? Am I going to run? The hill tribes would kill me for my boots. Unless a Shadowcat ate me first." He said, once again glaring at Catelyn.

"Shadowcats and hill tribes are the least of your concerns." She met his glare.

"Ah." Tyrion nodded in understanding. "the Eastern Road. We're going to The Vale. You're taking me to your sister's to answer for my imagined crimes. Tell me, Lady Stark. When was the last time you saw your sister?"

Catelyn didn't look away. "Five years ago."

Tyrion smirked. "She's changed. She was always a bit touched, but now... You might as well kill me here."

"I am not a murderer Lannister."

"Neither am I!" Tyrion yelled out exasperated."I had nothing to do with the attempt on your son's life!"

"The dagger found..."

"What kind of idiot arms an assassin with his own blade?" He yelled again.

Idolaf spoke up, having listened to the argument. "Wait, you're arresting him and your only evidence is a dagger?"

Tyrion gestured to Idolaf. "See. Only an idiot wou-"

Before the dwarf could finish speaking a whistling sound pierced the air and the bards lyre exploded into splinters, sending him off the rock he was sitting on. A few feet away the knight of House Bracken was hit in the skull by a stoner, slingers. "TO ARMS!" Idolaf cried at the top of his lungs as he drew his spatha. His men followed suit and quickly made towards him, slung stones hitting off a few of them but their armour protecting them.

To each side of them along the road men came charging, they were armed with axes, maces and a few spears but precious little armour. "ATTACK!" Idolaf ordered and charged the nearest bandit. He hadn't had time to grab his shield but his armour was thick and well made, it would protect him. The bandit didn't seem to care about that and screamed as he too charged, mace raised in the air, ready to fall. As the two met the bandit swung down savagely but widely, he clearly wasn't trained, raising his spatha Idolaf met the mace in the air and the well treated steel cut straight through the thin wooden shaft and carried on to slash the bandit in the shoulder. Howling in pain the man slunk to the floor, only to receive a fierce thrust from Idolaf which ended the fools life.

Looking around Idolaf saw the rest of his men were busy dealing with those coming from the western side of the road while the knights and sellsword were killing those coming from the east. On the ridge the slingers were still losing down rocks into the group. "Spear!" He calls out to the nearest of his men who quickly tosses the spear he was holding over before pulling his own spatha and rejoining the fray. Catching the spear Idolaf pulls his arm back and lets out a deep breath, focusing on one of the slingers. With a roar he throws it, sending it sailing through the air. The slinger doesn't notice it until it's too late and the spear impales him in the chest, sending him crumpling to the floor.

The other slinger cried out something when he saw his companion killed and started slinging rocks as fast as he could at Idolaf, most of them missing him but a few hit him in his armour, stunning him slightly. As Idolaf moved forward, trying to find another spear one of his men rushed over to him and held his shield over him while another jogged up with his own spear and threw it, missing by only a few inches . The slinger dived to the side, seemingly to try to void the spear that had already gone past him and stumbled down the slope, falling to only a few metres away from Idolaf and the two other legionaries. Before any of the four could move one of the knights from the Riverlands rushed in and tackled the slinger down to the ground, stabbing him repeatedly with a knife.

Pushing the shield off of him Idolaf stood, looking around. All the bandits were dead but several of the knights lay on the ground, the Bracken and Frey knights among them. Tyrion was stood over the body of one of the bandits, shield in his hand and looking exhausted, by the looks of the bandits face the dwarf had used the shield to crush his skull.

The sellsword had also survived and by the small pile of bodies around him Idolaf guessed he'd killed several at the last. "Your first?" idolaf heard him ask the dwarf, to which he nodded. "You need a woman. Nothing like a woman after a fight."

Tyrion looked over at Catelyn, who was by the large Stark man, Rodrik his name was. "I'm willing if she is." Tyrion spoke, still panting.

Shaking his head Idolaf turned back to his men, all had survived though a couple were nursing wounds and one was having trouble getting his slightly bent in helm off. "Right, Njorn, with me to get those spears."He called out before beginning he climb to get his spear and that of the one who had missed, followed by one of the legionaries.

* * *

 **Eadric Haraldsson - Hircine  
Skjor - Hircine  
Mystery person - Try guessing  
Delvin Mallory - Nocturnal**

* * *

 **One more chapter done, figured now would be a good time to see the event that started the whole War of Five Kings through and I, to be honest, didn't expect it to fill an entire chapter.  
If any of you are wondering about the look of the armour Idolaf and the rest of the cavalry are wearing it looks like the Auxillia Palatina unit from Rome Total War barbarian invasion so if you google that you've got the idea.  
And I'm sure some of you can already guess what's in store for Idolaf and the rest of his Turma.  
As always thanks for reading and feel free to leave a review.**


	10. A boy, A beast and beyond the Wall

**Okay first up apologies for being so late with this one, had a stressful few weeks with college work and other stuff happening online.  
Also as a bit of a heads up and apology the first section of this chapter may not be the best and I'll certainly come back to it at some point but it's had me stumped for weeks and I'd rather get this out now rather than delay the chapter another week**

* * *

 __ _The Eyrie, The Vale_ _, Westeros_

Idolaf stood behind Catelyn Stark and Tyrion Lannister in the Eyrie's throne room. It was a grand room, round in design and was certainly more impressive than any of the halls in Skyrim, and the throne itself was a very intricate design carved out of a white wood. "You bring him here?" The woman sat on the throne spat at Catelyn. "Without permission?" On the woman's lap was a boy, maybe seven years of age, and he was still breast feeding, which sickened the hardened Nord. "You pollute my home with his presence?" Before lady Stark could speak she turned to the boy on her lap. "Your aunt has done a bad thing, Robin, a very bad thing." The boy looked up at the mention of his name, milk still on his mouth. "You remember her, don't you?" With a smile that reminded Idolaf of the smiles the Thalmor would give while preaching their 'superiority' the woman turned back to Catelyn. "Isn't he beautiful? And strong too." She grinned. "Jon knew it. His last words were "the seed is strong." He wanted everyone to know what a good, strong boy his son would grow up to be. Look at him." She beamed at the boy. "The Lord of all the Vale." Perfect, why was it always the spoiled brats who got to inherit large estates and kingdoms, Idolaf thought.

"Lysa." Lady Catelyn started, a bit of doubt hanging in her voice. "You wrote to me about the Lannisters. Warning me t-"

"To stay away from them!" Lysa snapped. "Not to bring one here!"

"Mummy." The boy, Robin spoke. "Is that the bad man?" He sounded like Lars when he was four, Lysa had clearly smothered the boy.

Lysa nodded. "It is."

Robin smiled. "He's little."

"He's Tyrion the Imp of House Lannister, he killed your father. He murdered the Hand of the King!" Lysa glared at Tyrion, who groaned slightly in annoyance.

"Oh? Did I kill him too? I've been a very busy man."

"You will watch your tongue!" Lysa snapped. "These men are knights of the Vale. Every one of the loved Jon Arryn. Every one of them would die for me." Gods knows why.

"if any harm comes to me." Tyrion spoke. "My brother Jaime will see that they do."

When the dwarf had finished Robin jumped up in clear anger. "You can't hurt us!" He jumped slightly on his feet. "No one can hurt us here! Tell him, mummy! Tell him!" Shor's beard Jarl Balgruuf's daughter was better than him.

Lysa shushed her son and pulled him back to her lap. "Shh, my sweet Robin. He's just trying to frighten us. Lannisters are all liars. No one will hurt my baby."

The words seemed to calm Robin and he rested his head on her shoulder. "Mommy." He said without looking up at her. "I want to see the bad man fly." The boy began grinning, rather unsettlingly so as well.

Lysa also smiled. "Perhaps you will, my little love."

"This man is my prisoner." Catelyn spoke in a warning tone, cutting off the two on the throne. "I will not have him harmed."

Lysa stared at her sister for several moments, a scowl on her face. "Ser Vardis, my sister's guest is weary." She spoke in a low voice. "Take him down below so he can rest. Introduce him to Mord."

With a nod the knight who had lead the party to the Eyrie stepped forward and grabbed Tyrion by the shoulder before dragging him off.

When the doors to the throne room closed Lysa for the first time looked at Idolaf. "And who is this that you bring before the Lord of the Vale?"

Before Catelyn could speak Idolaf spoke up. "Decanus Idolaf Battle-born of the Empire of Tamriel." He gave a nod and also the nordic salute.

"And you come to the Vale armed for war?" Lysa demanded, while Robin studied them carefully with a bored expression. "You come before its Lord armoured like the Eastern savages?"

Frowning slightly Idolaf glanced at Catelyn who was looking quite uncertain. Turning back to Lady Arryn he spoke again. "I do not come seeking war. Me and my men were on our way North and Lady Catelyn said she would help us get there quicker."

"The Lord of the Vale decides who can pass through his lands." Lysa almost spat. "Isn't that right, sweet Robin?" She asked, looking down at the boy.

Robin looked up at his mother for a moment before looking back down to Idolaf. "Can I watch the big man fly?" He asked with a grin.

Idolaf widened his eyes in surprise, this boy was really asking if he could have him killed. "Lady Arryn I-"

"You will not interrupt the Lord of the Vale!" Lysa commanded. "No Robin, not yet." She spoke to the boy again. "What do you think should be done with them?"

"But I want to see them fly!"

Idolaf clenched his armoured fist but Catelyn spoke up before he could. "Lysa, they're just trying to go North."

Lysa looked at her sister for several moments. "Very well." He expression betrayed her annoyance. "They may go north with you, but if they speak out of line with the Lord the Vale again..." She looked down at Idolaf. "It'll be the Sky Cells."

Barely even nodding Idolaf turned and walked off, glancing at Catelyn as he went but otherwise not saying anything. The guards at the door opened it to let him pass and from there he made for the courtyard where the rest of his men were waiting.

When he got there he saw that several of the knights and the sellsword were also there, sitting around and seemingly waiting for something to do. "Idolaf!" He heard one of one of the other two Decanii in the Turma, Njorn, call. Waving back Idolaf walked over to Njorn, who was sat next to the sellsword. "So, we good to continue moving north?" The other Nord asked. Njorn was older than Idolaf, maybe ten years so. He was broadly built, even for a Nord and sported and impressive brown beard that despite Imperial regulations he'd gotten away with keeping.

"Aye, just about. The 'Lord of the Vale' wanted to see us fly, but lady Catelyn talked him out of it." Idolaf spoke with a sigh as he sat down on the small stone wall that both Njorn and the sellsword were sat on. "The Lannister's in a cell though."

Njorn scoffed. "He's still alive?"

"Just about." Idolaf said with a shrug.

"So you two are from some Legion or other, ain't you?" The sellsword asked, looking over both Idolaf's and Njorn's armour.

Njorn nodded. "Aye, Fourth Imperial Legion, first cohort." He added with clear pride.

"First what?"

"First cohort." Idolaf repeated. "Each Legion has a first cohort which has the elite soldiers in it. We're in the cavalry century so you could say we're the elite of the elite."

"And the Fourth Legion's the elite of the Empire anyway." Njorn added with a smirk. "Most experienced at any rate."

The sellsword shrugged. "I've heard a lot of soldiers say they're the elite of their piss poor army, though with you lot at least look the part." He gestured to their armour. "I'd kill for armour like that."

Njorn chuckled. "You could try, but you'd only get my axe in your skull." He rested a hand on his horseman's axe resting at his side. "Besides, you fought well enough against those bandits without it, isn't that right Decius!" He called out to the rest of the Turma.

"Shor's bones will you shut up about it Njorn!" Came the reply from the other side of the courtyard. Idolaf chuckled, remembering Decius was the one who had trouble removing his helm.

"In your dreams!" Njorn yelled back with a laugh.

The sellsword smirked and turned to Idolaf. "Name's Bronn." He held out a hand, which Idolaf shook. "You going to be staying round here long?"

Idolaf sighed. "I doubt the Lady Arryn will let us leave before her sister does."

"Well." Bronn smirked. "We'll have some time to swap some stories then."

* * *

 _Castle Black, The North_ _, Westeros_

The near endless expanse of the Haunted Forest, that was what Eadric could see from where he stood on the Wall. A few leagues into the forest were several plumes of smoke, Wildling camps he'd been told they were and he was certain the Nights Watch knew what they were talking about. Sighing slightly as he sat down on the snow covered floor he wondered why the Northmen and Wildlings were at each other's throats all the time, from what he could tell and from what Maester Aemon had told him their root cultures were nearly identical. For both worshipped the Old Gods of the forest and both were a collection of different peoples all linked by the blood of the First Men. The only real difference, as far as he could see, was that the men of the North had settled and built permanent homes rather than keep to the nomadic ways like the Wildlings did.

In truth the North was very much like Skyrim as well, with many different regions all swearing fealty to a High King, or Lord Paramount in the North's case. And the legends about the animals that once roamed the North were also very similar to what still inhabited Skyrim and made the Nords the resilient people they were. Both also valued martial prowess greatly, though Skyrim more so. The Starks had become Kings in the North because they were the best warriors and generals amongst all the Northern Kings, in much the same way Olaf One-eye had become High King of Skyrim after the succession wars. And both were viewed as backwards barbarians by the others on their continent but at the same time were truly feared for the fury they could unleash.

Behind him Eadric heard soft footfalls on the snow, probably someone on watch. Sure enough the now familiar black cloak of a Watchman came around the corner and Eadric wasn't surprised to see its owner was Jon. "What are you doing up here Eadric?" He asked as he walked to the edge of the Wall and looked over the Haunted Forest as well.

"Taking in the view." The Nord replied. "And this is the only place you can really be alone round here."

Jon nodded slightly. "Aye, I get that." He raised his hand to shield his eyes from the wind. "Those camps still where they were two days ago." The Northman seemed to speak to himself.

"Aye they're still there." Eadric spoke as he pushed himself up from the floor. "Though by the looks of it one's dying out." He pointed to the plume furthest east. "Might be they're getting ready to move on."

"That's probably it." Jon nodded slightly. "Don't know how anyone could live out there, nowhere to farm, snow all year round and winter pretty much all the time."

Eadric chuckled slightly. "People always find a way of living somewhere, no matter how shit it is."

"Is it like this where you're from?" Snow asked, glancing aside at him.

"No." The Nord shook his head. "I grew up in Falkreath, biggest forest in Skyrim. Think that forest outside Winterfell but with Ice wolves, Giants and Trolls in it." He smirked when he saw Jon's expression. "For land like this you'd have to go the Pale and Winterhold, snows all year round over there."

Jon grimaced and looked back over the Haunted Forest. "Sam was telling us about some Nord legends he'd been reading."

"Oh?" Eadric looked across at Jon. "What kind of legends has he read about?"

"The _Songs of the Return_ he called it. How the Nords first came to Skyrim."

The Nord chuckled again. "Tell him if he wants to know more about he should ask me, I memorised the books when I was at the Bards College, they were always popular in the halls of Jorrvaskr."

"Jorrvaskr?"

"Mead hall of the Companions, my home." Eadric grinned. "Descendents of the five hundred and founders of Whiterun, greatest of the Nine Holds."

"That's the capital of Skyrim right?"

Eadric chuckled and shook his head. "No, Solitude is the capital, but Whiterun has always been one of the most important cities, now it rivals Solitude in every way."

Jon glanced at Eadric for a moment before looking back out across the expanse of snow and forest. "You think they're out there?"

"Do I think what's out there?"

Jon breathed out. "The White Walkers."

The Nord glanced at Jon before also looking back out across the view, now looking at the distant Frostfangs. "Aye, I think they're there. If they had been totally defeated you wouldn't have built this wall. Or kept on making it taller."

There was a silence between the two for several minutes before the sound of another one approaching came from behind them. Looking they saw Samwell Tarly shambling towards them. "Hello... Ser Alliser says I'm supposed to be your new watch partner." He explained as he stood a few metres away, clearly hesitant. "S-Should warn you." Sam continued. "I don't see all that well."

Jon sighed. "Come stand by the fire. It's warmer."

Sam shook his head. "No that's alright, I'm fine."

"No, you're not." Eadric spoke, noting that Sam was shivering while Jon and himself seemed tolerant of the cold even if they were by the fire. "Last thing you need is a cold on top of everything else."

Sam looked between them both for a few moments before hesitantly approaching, inching closer to the edge of the wall and looking down. "I-I don't like high places."

The Nord sighed again. "So, you can't fight, your eyesight's shit and on top of all that you can't stand heights. Your father really fucked up with you." He crossed his arms and leant against the ice wall, a soft clacking sound when his mail connected with the hard frozen water.

"Y-you know?" Sam asked, looking distraught, while Jon just looked at Eadric with a questioning look.

"Thorne told me." Eadric answered. "Your father was too soft on you, his fault not yours."

"M-my father-"

"Your father was clearly content to just let you sit on your arse and read."

Sam shook his head quickly. "No. F-father forced me to fight, to hunt. But it never worked."

Eadric laughed darkly. "If your father had really tried to teach you to fight and hunt you wouldn't be here, you'd be the heir of whatever castle you come from and more than likely in bed with a girl he married you to."

"You don't know that." Jon spoke up before Sam could say another word.

"I think I do." Eadric shot back. "You remember I told you about Jon Battle-born? Well his nephew was just like Sam before his father made him train with the Companions, boy cracks skulls like the best of us now, works with his uncle in the City guard."

Jon looked at him for a few moments before frowning and looking back across the forest. Next to him Sam was also looking out across it. "Read that there's a Heartree in the haunted forest." He spoke, clearly trying to change the subject. "I've never seen a Heartree before, Horn Hill doesn't have a Godswood." When neither Jon or Eadric spoke for nearly a minute he looked over his shoulder at the Nord. "W-what gods to you keep to?"

"The Nine Divines." The Nord answered, Hircine may have laid claim on his soul but he still kept to the gods of his ancestors. "Though the Elves tried to make that Eight Divines until recently, and given the chance they will again."

"Elves!" Sam spoke in a incredulous voice. "So the _Songs of the Return_ are true?" For the first time Eadric saw him look somewhat happy about something.

Nodding the Nord smirked. "Aye, they're true." He looked across the forest again, noting that one of the plumes of smoke had now died out completely. " _As the red hands of dawn stretched from the east, so broke the Five Hundred Companions of Ysgramor, setting about their journeys, sailing now across the land with waves of stone and crests of trees flowing under their footed hulls._ " The Nord softly sang, drawing the attention of Jon who for once actually smirked. Sam meanwhile seemed to be listening intently to the song, he really cared about history it seemed. " _Southwards they went, by beast and by foot. Elves they found, though none remain to tell what those battles entailed. The numbers of the Jorrvaskr never faltered, so shrewd were they in battle, with minds as sharp as their blade._ " Eadric finished, sighing slightly, remembering the days in Jorrvaskr, of singing to raised horns of mead.

"You're a Companion, aren't you?" Tarly asked, drawing the Nord away from his thoughts.

"Aye, I am. Now if that's everything Tarly one of the camps has moved." The Nord pointed out across the expanse before the wall, at a new smoke plume, but this one was bigger than the last. "They've set up there, probably for some time."

Jon looked at where Eadric was pointing. "Aye, looks like it. We should tell the Lord Commander." He nodded to the Nord and both turned to leave.

"Should we blow the horn?" Sam asked. "One blast for Rangers returning, two for Wildlings attacking and..." He stopped for a moment, glancing at the large and ice covered horn. "Three for White Walkers."

Eadric stopped in his tracks. "Three for White Walkers..." He too looked at the horn. "When was the last time three were blown?"

"Erm..." Tarly muttered as he tried to remember. "A thousand years ago, I think."

"A thousand years..." Eadric trailed off for a moment before making the connection. "Bal." He muttered darkly before walking off, quicker this time. "I have to talk to Aemon." He called over his shoulder. "I'll let Mormont know, you two stay up here."

* * *

 __ _Wildling camp, North of the Wall_ _, Westeros_

"Ugh, place has more shit than when we left." Tormund muttered as he trudged back into Mance's camp, followed by his band of other free folk. "You lot do what you want, I'm going to Mance." He called over his shoulder before walking off in the direction of the King beyond the Wall's tent.

Nodding to the two Free Folk who stood by the flap of the tent he entered, feeling the warmth of the fire instantly. Seeing Mance sitting on one of the upturned logs they used for chairs and holding a horn of mead in his hand, he raised one of his big brows at the one sitting opposite his friend. He was a big man, maybe as big as Tormund, but was wearing armour he'd expect to see on a southerner. "Who's this?" He asked as he picked up the jug of mead on the table and poured himself a horn.

Mance downed his own horn and glanced at the man before looking up at Tormund. "Someone I think you should meet."

"So, you're saying who I should meet now as well." Giantsbane chuckled. "Right, so who are you? Some southern fuck? A crow?" He spoke, raising the goats horn of mead to his lips and drinking some.

The armoured man looked Tormund straight in the eye. He was clearly older than Giantsbane, that much was evident through his balding and greying hair, though the man had plenty of scars and looked to be blind in his left eye, he'd clearly been through a lot in his life. "Skjor, you must be the Giantsbane I've heard so much about." Skjor smirked and raised his own horn to his lips and downed the whole contents, not missing a drop.

Tormund looked at him for several moments before laughing. "That from Mance, or the Crows?"

"From your friend here." Skjor motioned to Mance. "Or should I say King?"

Mance also chuckled. "Just Mance, fancy titles don't mean much round here."

"Why's he here?" Tormund asked, looking at Mance.

"He was picked up by the Lord of Bone's group, found him tearing apart one of the Ice River Clans." Mance replied. "Twenty men and he just slaughtered them."

Tormund looked at Skjor for a few moments. "Twenty? Impressive." He chuckled and downed what was left of his mead.

"That's the not the impressive part, Tormund." Mance spoke as he set his own horn down. "When Rattleshirt found him..." He glanced at Skjor who was smirking. "He wasn't exactly human."

"What do you mean?"

Mance looked across at Skjor who only smirked again and crossed his arms. "What I mean is he wasn't human when Rattleshirt found him, called him a beast."

Tormund glanced at Skjor again, studying the man's features, wondering what his friend could be referring to, and he knew the Lord of Bones didn't lie. "A beast you say? Show me."

"I can only change once a day." Skjor shrugged. "So you'll have to wait until tomorrow."

Tormund looked at Mance for a moment who nodded slightly. "Seems so." He nodded before pouring himself another horn of mead.

* * *

 **Eadric Haraldsson - Hircine  
Skjor - Hircine  
Mystery person - Try guessing  
Delvin Mallory - Nocturnal**

* * *

 **And finally that's chapter 10  
Again, sorry for the wait with this one and sorry for the limited interaction with Lysa, find her and Robin very hard to write.  
And I promise we'll return to the capital next chapter  
As always feel free to leave a review and such**


	11. A whisperer, a fight and a promise

**And we've breached the 40K word barrier, woo!  
Thank you all for sticking with it until this point, support has been amazing from the reviewers.  
Before you start reading though, this chapter is bit longer than the others because I maybe crammed a bit much in but me and a few other thought it was best done this way.**

* * *

 __ _Kingslanding, The Crowlands_ _, Westeros_

The sea winds battered against the walls of the Red Keep, making it hard for anyone to keep a hold on the centuries old stonework, but that wasn't a problem for the person trying to get in tonight. Feeling for handholds the thief slowly scaled the outer wall of the castle, digging a small pick into stone bricks where he couldn't find any and never once looking down, lest the height harm his nerves. The moon was high that evening and the clouds virtually nonexistent, this was however both a boon and a curse, for the way may be easier to see but the guards would also be able to see more clearly as well.

After nearly a solid hour of climbing the thief found himself at the top of the outer wall, looking over cautiously he saw he was in the gardens of the grand castle. After a quick glance around for guards he slid over the top of the wall and dug a spike into the wall to hang a rope off of, both to allow himself to descend but also as a quick way to escape if need be. Slowly lowering himself into the garden and behind a few trees he made sure to make as little noise as he could, relying on experience to avoid any possibly crumbling bricks.

Touching down onto the grass softly the thief hung the rope on a low branch before crouching down and beginning to creep through the carefully maintained flowers, hedgerows and trees. Every so often he stops to listen, checking for footsteps against gravel, but he's only met by the rustle of leaves from the wind.

Slowly making his way through the garden the thief eventually comes to the wall of the Keep itself. Looking around to check for guards one last time before he begins to scale it he lowers himself behind a hedge when he sees a torch in the distance. Waiting patiently the guard passes by, none the wiser. When the thief sees the torch disappear behind a corner he stands back up and pulls his small pick out again he begins his hazardous ascent, moving very slowly and making care to stay as quiet as possible.

A few dozen feet up he tries to dig the pick into the wall when he found himself without a handhold higher up but instead of latching onto the stonework it finds a crumbling part of the old construction. Purely on a reflex action the thief clamps his left hand as tight as he can and pushes himself away from the now falling mortar that crashes down in to the garden with an audible thud. Not waiting to see if someone will investigate he begins his ascent again, making for the first window he can see, which is a mere eight feet away.

Reaching the window ledge just as the orange glow of a torch becomes visible below he clambers in, sighing slightly as he relaxes on the solid stone floor. Looking around he seems to have reached a bedroom of some kind. Sliding the pick back into its place on his belt he slowly stands to get a better look around, he had indeed entered someone's bedroom, the occupant sleeping soundly in a large bed. Silently creeping around the room the thief searches for anything worth the visit.

After a few tense minutes of searching the room and glancing back to the bed to see if the occupant has stirred the thief carefully opens a large chest in the corner and searches through it. Inside there appears to only be various bundles of clothes and such but the thief persists and is rewarded for his time. Feeling something long, thin and hard bundled in some cloth he slowly extracts it and begins unwrapping it. Only a few mere moments later he finds himself holding a long and thin sword of clear quality. Smirking to himself he slides the scabbard into his belt and quietly makes his way out o the room, soon finding himself in the annoyingly well lit hallway.

Sighing in annoyance the thief moves down the hallway as quietly as he can and checking each corner before turning round it, waiting for any guards to move along on their patrols and past him before trying to move past them. After nearly getting lost a couple of times the thief eventually finds the stairs he's been looking for and quickly ascends.

Several floors later he finds the room he's been looking for. Carefully opening the door and slipping in before closing is quickly and quietly he looks around for his target. Seeing the large bed he slowly creeps towards it, never taking his eyes off of the sleeping occupant. When he finally reaches the bed he glances around for the object he wants, quickly seeing it on the bedside table. Reaching over he picks up the small pin shaped as a fist in a circle and silently slinks off, again never taking his eyes off of the sleeping man in the bed.

Closing the door behind him the thief quickly makes his way to the adjacent chamber, knowing it should be empty. Opening the door and closing it behind him he sees nothing but the dark of the room set against the moonlight spilling in through the window. True to his word the thief's client had left a generous amount of rope. Picking up the long coil and walking to the window he looks out to gauge the distance to the ground.

"My little bird said you were good, but I have to say I didn't expect you to succeed." Swivelling around in alarm as an orange light flickers into existence from the far corner of the room. Sitting in a chair, wafting a small stick of fire out after having lit a candle, is a rather rotund, bald man. "Don't look so alarmed, you must have known this was too good to be true." He cocked his head slightly. "Mustn't you, Delvin mallory?"

Delvin threw the rope off of his shoulder. "It crossed my mind." He crossed his arms. "Litle birds eh? That what you call them?"

The bald one shrugged slightly. "I'm sure those in your business have names for your informers, and I find it's quite appropriate." He stood and walked over to Delvi. "My name is Varys, and I believe I may have some use for you."

"That right?" Delvin frowned and rested a hand on the hilt of the thin sword he'd stolen earlier. "That why you sent the boy to hire me was it?"

Varys nodded. "It was. I know my associate, Lord Baelish, has already approached you after you arrived and I wanted to see who this thief he'd been trying to get was. I have to say I'm impressed by the results."

"Yeah I met the guy, didn't seem like much."

"I advise you not the underestimate this man, he's far from harmless." Varys said without changing his expression an inch. "Now, I'm sure you want to hear what I ask."

Delvin smirked slightly. "Yeah, I do."

The other, paler man smiled slightly. "I offer you help in your endeavours in the capital, and protection from Lord Baelish. In return I will require your expertise in stealth and... acquirement, among other things, which will of course be fully paid for."

"Right, so I scratch your back, you scratch mine?"

"Precisely."

Mallory nodded slightly. "Think you've got yerself a deal there. You keep the city watch off my back and I'll do some jobs for you." The seasoned thief held out a hand.

Varys looked at the hand for a moment before reaching out with his own pale one and shaking it. "I think this the start of a successful partnership." He said with a small smile.

Delvin smirked and nodded. "I hope it is anyway." He pulled his hand away and picked up the rope again, securing the end of it to the large table in the chamber.

"Oh." Varys spoke up. "Before you go, I'll take the pin of the hand."

The Breton sighed and tossed the pin over, which Varys caught. "And the Hand's daughters sword." He added.

Frowning slightly Delvin walked over and handed the small sword to the bald man. "Your little bird had better have the pay when I get back to the inn." He muttered before walking back to the window and swinging out, getting ready to climb down.

"I assure you my little bird has the gold waiting for you." Varys spoke evenly as he checked the rope on the table. "Along with a little... gift, as a sign of co-operation."

Delvin smirked. "To co-operation." He chuckled before descending the rope, back down to the garden below.

* * *

 __ _The eyrie, The Vale_ _, Westeros_

Idolaf stood in the throne room of the Eyrie for the second time now, though this time it was filled with several of the other lords of the Vale, along with the survivors from lady Catelyns band of knights and a few of the Imperial Turma. Leaning against the back wall were Bronn the sellsword and Njorn, the two of them having taken to sharing various stories over drinks and on occasion swapping songs. Neither Idolaf, Njorn or any of the other legionaries were in their armour, instead just wearing simple tunics.

Up on the throne the boy, lord Robin, was banging something against the white wood of the throne. His mother however was looking down at the man that everyone was gathered in the room for. "You wish to confess your crimes?"

Tyrion Lannister looked slightly at the ground. "Yes, my Lady. I do, my Lady."

Lysa smiled and turned to Lady Catelyn, who was standing next to the throne. "The Sky cells always break them." Still smiling she turned back to Tyrion. "Speak, Imp. Meet your gods as an honest man."

Tyrion glanced around the room for a moment. "Where do I begin, my Lords and Ladies? I'm a vile man, I confess it. My crimes and sins are beyond counting. I have lied and cheated, gambled and whored. I'm not particularly good at violence, but I'm good at convincing others to do violence for me." Idolaf could hear Njorn chuckling behind him and Idolaf turned to join him against the wall.

"So different from our trials." He muttered and nodded slightly at Bronn before looking back to the centre of the room.

Tyrion continued speaking "You want specifics, I suppose. When I was seven, I saw a servant girl bathing in the river. I stole her robe. She was forced to return to the castle naked and in tears." Lannister bowed his head slightly. "If I close my eyes, I can still see her tits bouncing." Again Njorn chuckled and was joined by the sellsword. "When I was ten, I stuffed my Uncle's boots with goatshit. When confronted with my crime, I blamed a squire. Poor boy was flogged and I escaped justice."

"Sounds like Balgruuf's boys, eh Idolaf?" Njorn nudged him with a smirk.

Tyrion spoke up again, his voice still filled with what sounded like remorse. "When I was twelve, I milked my eel into a pot of turtle stew." A few gasps murmured throughout the hall. "I flogged the one-eyed snake." A few of the knights from the Riverlands and Lords from the Vale began chuckling, with several of the ladies smirking. "I skinned my sausage. I made the bald man cry..." Tyrion rangled his chains just below his waist line, clearly imitating cracking one off. "Into the turtle stew, which I do believe my sister ate, at least I hope she did." Idolaf tried to suppress a laugh and had some measure of success. "I once brought a jackass and a honeycomb into a brothel..."

"Silence!" Lysa Arryn called as she stood up, scowling at the dwarf.

"What happened next?" Robin asked innocently, well at least he doesn't know about that, Idolaf thought.

Lysa held a hand out to stop Robin but kept looking at Tyrion. "What do you think you're doing?"

Tyrion responded in a quite clearly fabricated confused tone. "Confessing my crimes."

"Lord Tyrion." Catelyn spoke this time. "You are accused of hiring a man to slay my son Bran in his bed, and of conspiring to murder my sister's husband Lord Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King."

"Oh I'm very sorry." The Lannister replied lowly. "I don't know anything about all that."

Lysa scowled. "You've had your little joke. I trust you enjoyed it. Mord!" The jailor, a fat bald man stepped forward. "Take him back to the dungeon. But this time find a smaller cell, with a steeper floor." Idolaf looked across at Njorn who frowned and muttered some curses under his breath.

"Is this how justice is done in the Vale? You accuse me of crimes, I deny them, so you throw me into a cell to freeze and starve?" Tyrion asked, his voice louder than before. "Where is the King's justice? I am accused and demand a trial!"

There were a few murmurs around the room and Lysa scowled again. "If you are tried and found guilty, then by the King's own laws you will pay with your life."

"I understand the law."

Lysa looked at him for a moment. "We have no executioner in the Eyrie, life is more elegant here." Elegant would not be the way Idolaf would describe it and he heard Njorn and Bronn snort slightly. "Open the Moon Door." Lysa commanded as she looked to her left.

Two men nodded and moved over to a corner of the throne room and turned a metal wheel. The sound of pulleys became evident and 'sweet' Robin Arryn clapped in apparent joy. Glancing around Idolaf saw everyone was focused on the centre of the room and he looked to see what it was. In the centre of the room, where Idolaf had just assumed there was a covered well, a metal door opened and wind gusted in, the signs that there was little more than the mountainsides outside.

"You want a trial, my Lord Lannister." Lysa asked mockingly. "Very well. My son will listen to whatever you have to say, and you will hear his judgment. Then you will leave... By one door or the other." She spoke, nodding to the main door of the hall and the moon door beneath her.

"No need to bother Lord Robin. I demand a trial by combat." Tyrion replied evenly before most of the lords and ladies of the Vale began muttering and a few chuckling.

Lysa didn't speak for a while and looked across at her sister for a moment before turning back to the dwarf. "You have that right."

"My lady I beg the honour." One of the knights of the Vale stepped forward. "Let me be your champion."

"The honor should be mine." Another, older knight stood forward. "For the love I bore your Lord husband, let me avenge his death."

Several other knights called out their requests to fight a man who barely came to their waists. "Bunch of milk drinkers." Njorn muttered. "They want to fight a man who can barely walk." Idolaf nodded slowly, how was this justice.

"Make the bad man fly!" Robin's shout stopped the calls of the volunteers for a moment and Lysa gave a half smile while looking at the knight that had brought the company from the Bloody Gates to the Eyrie.

"Ser Vardis." The knight looked up at her. "You're quiet. Don't you want to avenge my husband?"

Vardis stepped forward. "With all my heart, my lady." He knelt down. "But the Imp is half my size. It would be shameful to slaughter such a man and call it justice." At last, a man who had some sense of honour.

Tyrion nodded appreciatively to the knight. "Agreed."

"You demanded a trial by combat." Lysa half spat.

"now I demand a champion." The dwarf continued. "I have that right, same as you."

Ser Vardis stood. "I will gladly fight the Imp's champion, for you." He gave a deep nod to Lysa Arryn.

"I wouldn't be too glad ser." Tyrion smirked. "I name my brother, Jaime Lannister."

Again there were murmurs around the crowd, Jaime Lannister must be a good fighter. "The Kingslayer is hundreds of miles from here." Interesting title.

"Send a raven for him." Tyrion replied. "I'm happy to wait."

Lysa shook her head. "The trial will be today."

Tyrion turned around, looking at the court, and in the direction of Idolaf, Njorn and Bronn in particular. "Do I have a volunteer?" The assembled lords and ladies laughed, so much for justice, it made Idolaf's blood boil. "Anyone?"

Idolaf sighed to himself, he couldn't believe he was about to do this. "I'll stand for him!" He called out as he walked forward, drawing a raised brow from Njorn and a smirk from Bronn who looked like he had been close to volunteering as well.

Tyrion looked at him with a confused expression, probably banked on the sellsword as well. While Lysa turned to look at Catelyn for a moment who also looked confused. Looking back to Idolaf she hesitated for a few moments. "... Very well, you will fight as the Imp's champion." She glanced down at Robin for a moment before looking back up. "According to our laws you are allowed one hour to prepare."

Idolaf nodded and glanced at Tyrion for a moment before walking back to Njorn, who was now standing properly with a grin on his face. "Get my armour, and bring Julius, he'll be needed."

Njorn chuckled and grabbed hold of Idolaf's shoulder for a moment. "Aye. Heh, this should be fun." He smiled broadly and walked off, back to the horses.

Turning around Idolaf saw everyone was looking at him, sighing to himself he also left the room, why was he doing this.

...

An hour later Idolaf returned to the throne room along with Njorn and Julius, the Turma's healer. Now wearing his armour he made for an imposing sight, his natural Nord bulk extenuated by the plate armour and the personal addition of his fur cloak only increased the effect, he looked every part a Nord of the Empire. Nodding slightly to Njorn and Julius the two backed up from him and quietly made their way to the edge of the room, Njorn still grinning at the future fight. There were a few mumbles from the lord and ladies of the Vale about the style of his armour and more than one of the ladies seemed rather more interested than they perhaps should have been.

Moving to the centre of the throne room, Idolaf glanced at Tyrion who looked uncertain and then looked up at Lysa and Robin on the throne. The boy seemed excited about the fight while Lysa had a similar expression to Tyrion's own. Vardis was standing across from him, now wearing a helmet and held his sword in his right hand while a servant was stood beside him with a kite shield.

Up on the throne Lysa again nodded to the two attendants by the wheel and they bowed their heads before slowly cranking it. In the dead centre of the room the Moon Door opened and the wind gushed in again, ruffling Idolaf's cloak.

Across from him Vardis took his shield from his servant and the two men focused on each other, waiting for the signal to start. Soon enough the voice of Robin Arryn rung around the room. "Fight!"

The two men approached each other and Vardis was the first to attack, swinging overhead and down onto the larger Nord. Raising his shield Idolaf let the blow slide off and to his side before he made a thrust at the Valeman.

Vardis too caught blow on his shield and pushed out, driving the Nord back a few steps and continuing his attack, going for a swing from the left.

Bringing his spatha back Idolaf braced himself for the impact and the clang of metal on metal told him he'd succeeded in parrying the blow. Before he could attack however Vardis struck again from the right but Idolaf, acting on pure reflex, brought his shield up and used it to hold Vardis's weapon to the side while he himself attacked in the one way he could with his sword further to the right. Bringing his helmeted head hard onto Vardis's, head butting the man as hard as he could.

The Valeman reeled from the impact and backed up several steps. "Come on Vardis!" Idolaf heard from the crowd as he moved forward and brought his strength to bare against the Valeman, swinging down from above.

To his credit Vardis recovered quickly and brought his shield up just as the sword crashed down on it and chipped the paint and splintered part of the wooden construction. Before Vardis could attack however Idolaf kicked hard onto the valeman's knee and sent him buckling. Swinging round with his shield the Nord battered the metal rimmed round shield into the knight's side, drawing a grunt of pain from him and finally driving him down to the floor proper.

As Vardis scrambled back and ditched his shield Idolaf pointedly looked up at the throne. Lysa Arryn and Catelyn Stark were looking on with anxious and concerned expressions while the boy, Robin, was watching excitedly. Hearing the heavily armoured knight scramble to his feat beside him, Idolaf turned and raised his spatha before yelling out a roar and charging.

The now panting knight grunted and raised his sword to bring a swing down on the Nord as he charged. The blade however found itself clanging against Idolaf's shield and reeled again as the larger, armoured Nord shoulder barged into his side.

As Idolaf backed up to give himself some more space the Valeman lifted his helms visor and looked up at Lysa, panting from exertion.

Also turning to look up at Lysa Idolaf saw her determined expression. "Enough. Finish this, ser Vardis!"

Visibly groaning the knight lowered his visor and shifted the grip on his sword before charging in an apparent last ditch attempt to overpower his opponent.

As Vardis started his charge, so did Idolaf, moving low and pushing his shield up to catch the knight as he impacted with the Nord. The sound of steel against steel told Idolaf that Vardis's sword had connected with his shield and acting quickly he pushed up with all his strength, lifting the knight partially over him and sending Vardis rolling towards the opened moon door.

Unable to stop himself Vardis dropped his sword and grabbed desperately for the stone railing that surrounded the opening. The whole room hung its breath as the armoured knight held on for dear life and let out a cry of pain.

Dropping his sword and his shield Idolaf ran over and grabbed hold of the knight's arm and began dragging him up, who groaned in pain as the Nord yanked on his arms. "Do you yield?" He questioned as soon as Vardis's head came was above the opening. Throughout the room various lords and ladies of the Vale were calling for Idolaf to pull him up.

"Stop ser Vardis!" Lysa cried out. "Do not yield to the Imp's lackey!"

Vardis looked down at the sheer drop to the bottom of the valley the Eyrie inhabited before looking back up at Idolaf with a desperate and pained expression. After a few silent moments he slowly nodded. "Yes! I yield!" Cracking a half smile Idolaf pulled him up with substantial effort.

When the knight was back on solid ground Idolaf looked around, the rest of the occupants of the room were all silent. Tyrion was grinning madly and holding up his chained hands with Njorn a few metres behind him, also grinning. Nodding slightly to Julius who quickly rushed forward to see if either of them needed help. Up on the throne Lysa and Catelyn were looking on with astonished faces while Robin curiously looked over the prone forms of Idolaf and Vardis. "Is it over?" he asked his mother, who still looked onward.

"You..." She stared at Idolaf. "You... fight like one of the hill tribe savages."

Pushing himself up Idolaf glanced down at the now quietly suffering knight. "No." He spoke as he looked up at Lysa. "I fight like a Nord." With a last smirk at Lysa he turned to face Julius.

"His arm's dislocated."Julius muttered as he looked over the suffering knight of the Vale. Quickly taking out his knife the Imperial cut away the plate armour on Vardis's shoulder. "This may hurt, five, four." He never got to three and instead pushed the knight's arm back into place. To his credit, Vardis didn't let out so much as a grunt.

Idolaf held out his right hand for the knight, who looked at it warily for a moment before grabbing it and pulling himself up. "You..." He sighed heavily from exertion. "Fought well, very well, champion."

"Aye, ya did good Idolaf." Njorn chuckled as he clapped a hand over Idolaf's shoulder.

"Can I make the little man fly now?" Robin was heard asking his mother, causing all four men to look up at him.

"Not this little man." Tyrion said proudly as he walked across the throne room, his chains removed. "This little man is going home." He came to a stop as he looked at the old Stark bannerman who had been with Catelyn Stark. "I believe you have something of mine." He said with a smirk as he held out his hand. The bannerman looked down at Tyrion for a moment before looking at Catelyn, who after a few seconds nodded. Frowning slightly the man took a coin purse from his belt and tossed itdown to Tyrion.

Turning and giving a mock bow to Lysa, Tyrion walked over to Idolaf. "I don't think the Lord Robin will like you staying any longer, and I doubt Lady Stark will make for a good travelling companion now. Come with me, my father will see you rewarded and ensure you have ships."

Looking up at the fuming Lysa Idolaf thought it over for a few moments. "Hmm." He looked down again at Tyrion. "Promise me we will actually get up there and we'll go with you."

Smirking, Tyrion bowed his head. "You have a Lannister's promise."

"Very well then, give us time to prepare and we'll meet you outside the gates." Idolaf nodded to the dwarf.

Tyrion again smiled and turned to leave, tossing the coin purse to the jailor. "A Lannister always pays his debts." He remarked before leaving the hall.

"Well..." Vardis began, he was clutching his recently set arm and was clearly in some pain but would ultimately recover, every warrior there knew it. "Good luck on your travels, perhaps we'll meet again someday." He gave a nod before he himself walked off, probably to find one of the healers of his own kind.

"Right, let's go." Idoaf nodded to Njorn and Julius before bending down and picking up his sword and shield. "Got ourselves a new travelling companion... again." He muttered as he walked out, followed by Julius and a chuckling Njorn.

"And where d'you think you're all goin'?" Bronn half asked, half laughed.

"You know where." Idolaf replied, eyeing the sellsword.

Bronn shrugged. "Oh aye, I know that. I meant where d'you lot think you're going without me?" He grinned. "Going to make more off that little dwarf than I ever will off that old cow in there." He gestured to Catelyn. "Especially after you just did that."

Idolaf sighed. "So you're coming as well?"

Bronn nodded with a smirk. "Of fucking course."

* * *

 **Eadric Haraldsson - Hircine  
Skjor - Hircine  
Mystery person - Try guessing  
Delvin Mallory - Nocturnal**

* * *

 **So there's my longest chapter to date.  
And I'm sorry for stealing the spotlight from Bronn in this instance, but, well, I wanted Vardis surviving.  
As always feel free to leave a review.**


	12. A wolf, a vow and a weeping tree

**Okay this one has taken a full month to get out, explanation for that down below.  
Other than that hope you enjoy the read**

* * *

 __ _Castle Black, The North_ _, Westeros_

Eadric sat on the edge of the courtyard of Castle Black, sharpening his sword. Light snow was falling and the howl of the wind brought back welcome memories to the Nord, for him the North was a good, hard place. In the woods there was always the occasional deer or auroch to hunt, some meagre offering to Hircine for the time being. He'd embraced the wolf blood within him several times since he'd arrived, first was on the way to the Wall from Winterfell and the rest had been while here, the centre of the Night's Watch. It amused him endlessly when there was talk about a monstrous wolf lurking in the forests nearby and the sometimes incredulous reactions to him returning from the hunt carrying a deer while the howling had so clearly been only a scant distance away.

Jon's Direwolf though, Ghost he'd named it, had often returned his howling and he was sure the animal knew what he really was. The way the wolf was looking at him from his place chained to a post on the other side of the courtyard all but confirmed it, distrustful and challenging but also curious. Smirking to himself Eadric slid the whetstone across the Skyforge steel blade, letting the metallic sound ring in the air.

The sound of footfalls on the light snow roused him from his thoughts and task. Looking up he saw a watchman walking towards him. "Lord Commander Mormont awaits you in his chambers." He spoke plainly.

Nodding slightly and sliding his sword into its sheath on his belt Eadric stood and followed the Watchman. Ascending some stairs and quickly reaching one of the corner buildings in the small castle the Watchman opened the thick wooden door to Mormont's chambers.

Entering the room Eadric saw the Old Bear sat at his desk. "Haraldsson, take a seat. Cooper you can go."

The Nord nodded and sat down opposite Mormont and Cooper, the Watchman left.

Jeor picked up a jug that was on his desk and poured two horns of ale, setting one down by Eadric. "Maestor Aemon tells me you came to him, something about the White Walkers."

Eadric picked up the horn and drank some of the ale. "Aye. Tarly said the last time three blasts were rung was a thousand years ago. Maestor Aemon confirmed that."

"You think that was a White Walker attack?"

The Nord sighed. "No." He downed the ale in his horn and set it down on the table, empty. "A thousand years ago in Tamriel there was a period known as the 'Intereggnum'. The Cyrodillic Empire had fallen and many of the powerful races tried to replace them." Eadric explained, drawing a raised brow from the Old Bear. "During that time the Daedric Prince Molag Bal tried to invade Mundus."

"Daedric Prince?" Mormont lifted the horn to his lips for a moment before lowering it again. "What are they?"

Eadric leaned back in his chair. "Depends on who you ask. To many they're the enemies of all life, to some they're gods to be worshipped. With all of them though it depends on which prince it is. Molag Bal is one of those that's despised by most about everyone, besides vampires." Of course to Eadric himself most were not his concern, though Hircine would always be his patron.

Mormont breathed out. "Right. And you say this thing tried to invade your land?"

"Tried and failed. Most don't know about it." Eadric answered. "I only know about it because some Imperial scholar wanted good men to defend him during his recovery of the Imperial Library after the Second Great War, so he hired the Companions. One of the old tomes he recovered concerned the invasion, otherwise people have forgotten it."

Jeor nodded slightly. "And you think we could've been attacked by the same things?"

"If three blasts were uttered a thousand years ago and it wasn't the White Walkers then aye, that's what I think it would've been." The Nord nodded and looked up at one of the windows, watching the snowfall outside of it. "Do you know if there was an attack on the Wall two hundred years ago?"

Mormont shook his head. "No, last major attack on the wall was seventy years ago. The Northmen threw them back. Why?"

Eadric nodded slightly. "The Oblivion crisis happened two hundred years ago. Mehrunes Dagon, Daedric Prince of change and destruction invaded Tamriel and wiped out the blood line of Talos."

"I see." The Old Bear breathed out. "The reason I called for you..." Eadric raised a brow, so his questions to the Maestor weren't the reason he was summoned. "I've decided you're going to join the Rangers in their activities. You may not want to take the oath but I can still put you to more use than just sparring with the new bloods."

The Nord looked at Jeor for a moment before nodding slowly. "So I'm going to go North of the Wall?"

"Aye." Jeor nodded simply.

After a few moments silence between the two the horn at the top of the wall blasted. Both Nord and Northman stood quickly and waited for a second or third blast. When none came Jeor looked at Eadric before walking to his chambers door and opening, exiting.

Eadric quickly followed the older man and upon exiting the spartan chambers looked up at the top of the Wall. Squinting he was able to see the elevator begin to descend.

"Open the gate!" A watchman called out.

A group of watchman quickly darted for the inner gate winches and inserted the wooden beams that they could pull down to lift the heavy chains. As the gate slowly raised the elevator too descended and sooner had it opened then the wooden thud of the elevator was heard around the courtyard.

Out of the now opened gate darted a saddled horse, lead by a watchman who was frantically trying to bring it to a stop.

"That's my uncle Benjen's horse." Eadric heard Jon call out as he ran up. Stopping and looking at the horse for a few moments he turned and looked at Mormont."Where's my uncle?"

...

"You came to us as outlaws, poachers, rapists, killers, thieves." Mormont spoke to the assembled new recruits to the Nights Watch. Eadric was watching from one of the covered railing on the small walls of the castle, so as not to get in the way of the ceremony. He understood the privacy such an event should have. "You can to us alone." Mormont continued. "In chains, without friends, without honour. You came to us rich, you came to us poor." Every watchman in the castle was present, watching the ritual. "Some of you bear the names of proud houses, others only bastard names or no names at all, it does not matter. All that, is in the past." He gestured to the Wall behind him. "Here, on the wall, we are all one house." he looked back across the recruits, and Eadric saw that Samwell was whispering something to Jon, who hadn't spoken since his uncles horse had returned. "Tonight, you take your oaths. You'll hold no lands. Every man here will become your brother."

Beside him Thorne had his usual scowl on his face and was looking at Jon and Samwell, but not saying a word while the Lord Commander spoke. "Any debts you had before you came to us, are gone, you owe no one but your brothers anything. Here." He held up a scroll. "You begin anew.

Descending the steps he kept on speaking. "A man of the Night's Watch, lives his life for the realm, not for a King, or a Lord, or the honour of this house or that house, not for gold, not for glory, nor a woman's love." Eadric leant against the wooden railing, he was beginning to see why many viewed this as a literal dead end. "But for the Realm and all the people within it. You've all learnt the words." Up on the platform Thorne stepped forward slowly, looking over the recruits. "before you take your vows, think carefully before you say them. The penalty for desertion is death."

Mormont stopped for a moment and looked across the recruits. "You can take your vows here, tonight, at sunset. Do any of you keep to the old gods?"

Jon slowly stood. "I do, milord."

"You want to take your vows before a Heartree, as your uncle did?"

Jon nodded. "Yes, milord."

Mormont nodded slightly. "You can find a Weirwood a mile north of the wall, and maybe your old gods as well."

Sam also tentatively stood. "My Lord, might I go as well?"

Mormont looked like he was maybe raising a brow but Eadric couldn't tell for the distance. "Does house Tarly keep to the Old Gods?"

"No, my Lord." Samwell shook his head. "I was named in the light of the seven, as my father was, and his father before him."

"Why would you forsake the gods of your farther and your house?" Thorne asked, his scowl deepening.

Sam seemed to chose his words for a moment. "The Nights Watch is my house now, and the Seven have never answered my prayers, perhaps the Old Gods will."

Mormont nodded slightly. "As you wish." Sam nodded in thanks and sat down alongside Jon again. The Old Bear unravelled his scroll. "You've all been assigned an order, according to our needs and your strengths." He began reading out names and Eadric figured the ceremony part over and began to walk to the stairs and down into the courtyard, only vaguely listening to the listing off. "Jon, to the Stewards." Was the one that stood out, it sounded strange, Jon was by far the best fighter of the recruits and yet he was stuck doing domestics.

Looking up at the platform Eadric saw Thorne was smirking, his work no doubt. While the Nord respected Thorne he realised he could be a very spiteful man.

When Mormont finished reading out the names and began walking to his chambers one of the senior Watchman, Jaremy Rykker if Eadric remembered correctly, stepped forward on the platform. "Rangers, with me." Taking that as his cue Eadric pushed himself off the railing and circled the fort before stepping down into the courtyard and over to the now gathered group of new Rangers.

As he walked up the senior Watchman nodded slightly to him, no doubt Mormont had previously told him. "So you're all Rangers now. That means you're the Watch's sword, you're the ones who go north of the Wall." He gestured to the massive Ice structure. "Now." He looked back at the new Rangers. "Lord Commander Mormont has decided that Haraldsson will join the Rangers."

Most of those present all looked at Eadric. Among them Grenn was smirking and Rast was scowling, seems he still remembered his half choking.

"Right. Niko, Escan, you're to report to the Shadow Tower. Report to Commander Mallister, he needs more men." He waited for the two he addressed to nod, which they did. "Haraldsson, you'll come with me and First Builder Yarwyck north of the Wall when Snow and Tarly take their oaths." Eadric nodded once and Rykker addressed the others again. "Rest of you, there'll be a ranging tomorrow, see what you're made of."

...

The gate slowly raised, the ancient metal creaking as the heavy chains lifted it. Beside Eadric were Jon, Sam, Rykker and the First Builder Yarwick. As well as Jon's direwolf, who had occasionally turned to look at the Nord while it happily trotted ahead of its master. When the outer gate finally opened fully the five men and direwolf passed through the threshold, into the real North.

After stopping for a moment to wait for the gate to close the five began the trudge to the Haunted Forest. "Only about a mile." Yarwick stated before looking at Eadric. "You're not taking the vow are you?"

"No." Eadric shook his head. "Got a wife to think about, she's with child."

Rykker snorted slightly. "Plenty of us had wives to think about." The remark earned him a glance from Jon and Sam but the Ranger either didn't notice or didn't care. "What's her name?"

"Njada Stone-arm." The Nord replied. "She'd kill me if I took your vows."

"Stone-arm? Weird name." Jaremy muttered.

Eadric chuckled. "Most Nords have names like that. She got hers when a Snow Troll threw a stone at her shield, didn't even leave a dent."

"Snow Troll?" Yarwick asked.

"Aye, Snow Trolls. Big as three men and stronger than five."

"Their fat's used to make potions." Samwell mentioned, drawing looks from everyone. "I read it in a book." He explained.

Eadric saw Jon smirk slightly, a rare show of emotion. "Aye, it's used to make potions. Good trade, if you can kill them."

Rykker nodded slightly. "I can imagine. How do you kill them?"

"Same way everything else, with cold Nord steel." The Nord replied. "But Trolls are also week to fire, only thing that stops them healing themselves."

"Heal themselves?" Yarwick asked, doubt in his voice.

Eadric looked across at Sam, presuming he already knew. "The... ah... Nords of Skyrim say that Trolls can heal any damage done to them besides fire, given enough time." Sam explained and also looked at Eadric, who nodded slightly.

"Aye, you let a Troll run off wounded, it'll come back the next day with a grudge."

Jaremy grimaced. "Glad they aren't out here."

The Nord shrugged slightly. "They're just a part of life in Skyrim. Most villages either have the local Hold Guard to rely on or their own warriors, keeps us on our toes."

There was a period of silence again as they trudged over the snow. "What's Skyrim like?" Samwell asked. "I've only read about it."

Eadric chuckled slightly. "The northern parts are like this all told, just more mountainous. " He began to explain, glancing at Ghost every now and then. "You'll find wolves like that there as well, big and as white as snow. The south holds most of the forests, Falkreath is the biggest though the Rift's is big as well. To the west is the Reach, old homeland of the Reachmen which the Nords conquered thousands of years ago."

"Reachmen? They still around?" Rykker asked, raising a brow.

"Aye, they're still around, as the Forsworn. Little more than brigands and rapers." Eadric frowned slightly, he'd killed more Forsworn than he could count now. "North of that is Haafingar and Hjaalmarch. Haafingar is mountainous and the capitol hold of Skyrim while Hjaalmarch is just one big swamp. And right in the middle." The Nord smiled slightly. "Is Whiterun Hold, heartland of Skyrim and home to its greatest city, Whiterun."

"Home to the Companions and the Skyforge." Sam piped up.

Eadric chuckle and looked across at Sam as they continued their trek. "You read a lot about Skyrim haven't you?"

"There were a few books on it at Horn Hill, very old books."

"Lucky for you you're in the Stewards, Tarly." Yarwyck chuckled. "And Maester Aemon's Steward at that."

Rykker nodded in agreement. "Aye, you may be the worst fighter I've ever seen, but you'll make a decent Maester one day."

Sam somewhat smiled at the meagre support for his new position but Eadric noted Jon's expression harden somewhat as they continued the rest of their trek in silence. After maybe half an hour trudging through the snow the group eventually came to the edge of the Haunted Forest and followed Rykker as he lead them to the Weirwood tree a few minutes into the forest.

Arriving at the tree in short order Eadric had to admit he found the tree quite reminiscent of the Gildergreen in Whiterun, if whiter and with faces carved into it. Though when he looked closer he saw the faces seemed to have tears coming out of their eyes, the sap having leaked out. When all five had approached the tree Jon's wolf, Ghost, ran off seemingly going for a wander.

"This is it." Yarwyck stated. "Kneel as boys."

Both Jon and Sam knelt in front of the Weirwood and after glancing at each other for a moment they looked up at the face in the tree. "Hear my words and bear witness to my vow." They began. "Night gathers and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my live and honour to The Night's Watch, for this night and all the nights to come."

"You knelt as boys." Yarwyck spoke when they finished their vows. "Rise now as men of the Night's Watch."

Jon quickly stood himself up and helped Tarly also stand when it seemed he was having some slight trouble. When they were both stood they embraced, both of them smiling. Yarwyck and Rykker approached them and clasped their hands each in turn before pulling them into a quick embrace with mixes of 'well dones' and 'congratulations'.

As the new men of the Watch were embracing though, Ghost returned. "Jon." Eadric spoke, drawing the other's attention.

"What's he got there?" Sam asked when he saw the wolf was carrying something in his mouth.

"Looks to be a hand." The Nord replied, seeing it clearly in the wolf's mouth.

"God's be good." Samwell exclaimed.

Jon meanwhile walked up to his wolf and knelt down next to him. "Give it here Ghost." The direwolf complied and dropped the hand next to Jon as Rykker trudged over.

"Seven hells. Snow, get your wolf to lead us where the bodies were. Haraldsson, with me." He commanded.

Jon nodded and looked back down to Ghost. "Lead us to him." The wolf lowered his head and began trotting off, closely followed by Rykker , Eadric and his master.

It wasn't long before they came upon the place where Ghost had retrieved the hand, its owner lying against a tree. Walking over to the dead man Rykker kneeled down and looked at his face. "Jaffer Flowers, a Ranger." He looked over his shoulder. "He was with Benjen."

Jon grimly nodded and stared at the body, along with the wound Jaffer's corpse was pressing his remaining hand against, the wound that killed him.

Eadric looked down at Ghost, the wolf was wagging his tail slightly and kept on glancing at a point a few metres away before returning his gaze to Jon and Rykker. Raising a brow the Nord trudged over to where the wolf was looking, knowing the behaviour of the animals. Soon he rounded a large tree and saw another body, a much larger Watchman was laying face down against the snow. "Got another one over here." He called out.

After a few moments both Rykker and Jon were stood beside Eadric. "Must be Othor." Jaremy muttered before walking over to the corpse and, with some effort, rolling him over. "Aye, it's Othor."

"Was he with my uncle as well?" Jon asked.

Jaremy glanced over his shoulder. "Aye, he was." He stood up. "You two stay here. I'll tell Yarwyck and Tarly to go back for a sled, we need to get them back to Castle Black for burial."

* * *

 **Eadric Haraldsson - Hircine  
Skjor - Hircine  
Mystery person - Try guessing  
Delvin Mallory - Nocturnal**

* * *

 **Now for that explanation I owe you all. In truth this is the third attempt to get this chapter done, with the first two both being based in Kingslanding during the Lannister grab of power but both of those felt off and I kept on having new ideas. Since the plot down there is vital to pretty much everything else but beyond the wall a few chapters in the future I knew I had to be certain what I was going to be going. That and I wanted to keep Season 1 relatively intact because of all the juicy stuff in season 2 onwards. So yes, to prove many of your fears, this means Eddard Stark has to die and the War of Five Kings has to begin. However I promise that once the season 2 timeline starts, all bets are off with regards to where this heads.  
Now that's done with feel free to leave a review and if there's anything regarding the possible future of this you want to discuss/tell me about, please PM me about it.  
As always you guys are great and it always feels amazing to see that view counter slowly rise, we've reached 7300 by the time I'm writing this so you guys are awesome!**


	13. A Chief, an ambush and a Duke

**And here's chapter 13, sorry for the delay.  
Hope you enjoy the read.**

* * *

 __ _Eastern Road, The Vale_ _, Westeros_

" _Oh, there once was a hero named Ragnar the Red. Who came riding to Whiterun from ole Rorikstead._ " Njorn sang along with several other of the Nords in the turma as they rode down the thin gravel road that lead from the Bloody Gate to the edge of the mountains. " _And the braggart did swagger and brandish his blade. As he told of bold battles and gold he had made._ " It was early morning, the group of thirty or so men having broken camp only an hour ago as the sun crept over the treetops.

"You Nords love to sing, don't you?" Tyrion asked Idolaf as the two rode near the front of the small column, with Bronn just behind them riding on one of the spare horses the turma used as a pack animal.

Idolaf shrugged. "We Nords have a tradition as warrior poets, as my brother is always fond of saying."

" _But then he went quiet, did Ragnar the Red. When he met the shield-maiden Matilda, who said; "Oh, you talk and you lie and you drink all our mead. Now I think it's high time that you lie down and bleed!"_ " The men behind them continued, Njorn leading the song with a louder voice than the others.

Tyrion smirked slightly. "Wouldn't exactly call that a poem."

"You know they should quieten down. Hill Tribes all over these woods." Bronn called forwards to the two.

"Let them have their fun, Bronn. If we're going to be attacked it might as well be with a song in their hearts." Tyrion spoke with a raised voice to be heard over the singing.

" _And so then came clashing and slashing of steel. As the brave lass Matilda charged in, full of zeal._ "

Bronn looked over his shoulder at the armoured cavalry behind him before looking forward again. "Half the bloody Vale'll hear that lot."

" _And the braggart named Ragnar was boastful no more. When his ugly red head rolled around on the floor!_ " The song finished and a few of them laughed before one of them started a rendition of _The Drunken Bosmer_ which most of the others quickly joined in.

"Remember we've already driven off one Hill Tribe, Bronn." Idolaf called back to the sellsword. Bronn didn't look convinced but didn't reply again.

Tyrion chuckled. "You know Decanus, I have to wonder why you championed for me. I don't recall offering you gold and you haven't asked for anything. So what was it?"

Idolaf looked down at the dwarf riding beside him. "Call it old Nord honour." He shrugged slightly and looked ahead again. "Though I get the feeling the sellsword would've championed you if I hadn't."

"Yes, I was expecting Bronn to champion for me, knows how to get his gold that one."

"You know I'm right here." Bronn called forward.

"I know, and I know how good you are so I'll be keeping you around sellsword!" Tyrion yelled back with a grin.

Bronn rolled his eyes and began digging through one of the bags on his horse for a moment before pulling out a red apple and begging to chomp down on it.

Idolaf chuckled and looked at Tyrion again. "So where are we headed once we reach the Riverlands again?"

"Knowing my father he'll have raised his banners the second he heard of my capture." Tyrion answered, clearly not knowing for certain. "He'll either be laying siege to Riverrun after passing through the Golden Tooth or he's further west near Harrenhall to cut off any support from the banners of house Whent."

"I really need to get a map of this place at some point." Idolaf chuckled. "All the names going over my head."

Tyrion snorted slightly. "I'll make sure to get you one. And don't worry, I know many of the roads of Westeros, there were many maps in Casterly Rock."

Idolaf nodded and the group rode on with the others behind them singing away. After maybe a mile of riding the trees thickened and every so often they would see figures in the bracken. The singing had by that time stopped and most were on alert but on they rode.

"Told you they'd hear us." Bronn muttered.

...

It was nearing dark and the turma was still in the forest that lined the valleys of this side of the mountains that formed the boundary of the Vale. As the shadows grew longer they saw more and more of the figures, in larger groups and many of them closer than they had been before. It was clear they were being followed, and followed by a large group of men at that.

Eventually they came across a chopped down tree of the road, the trunk showing signs of being recently cut with axes. Knowing instantly that it was an attempt at a trap Idolaf drew his spatha. "Arms!"

No sooner had he given the word then they found themselves already surrounded. Out of the tree line men armed with all sorts of weapons, from axes to scythes and armoured in nought but furs and rags.

"Close up!" Njorn shouted and the Imperials and Nords directed their horses into a closer formation, Tyrion and Bronn joining them.

As they were surrounded by what looked to be more than a hundred Hill Tribesmen one of them walked ahead of the others. He was large and wore what looked to be a helm with two goats horns coming out of the cheek guards. "When you all meet your gods. Tell them Shagga, son of Dolf, of the Stonecrows, sent you."

"It's you who'll meet your gods!" Njorn spat back, gripping his axe and looked to be about to charge before Idolaf stopped him with a raised hand.

Shagga seemed to smirk, finding the threats amusing. "I'll enjoy cutting off your manhood and feeding it to the goats."

"There's no need for that, friend." Tyrion spoke up from his horse, drawing the gaze of Shagga. "I am Tyrion, son of Tywin, of Clan Lannister and there's no need for bloodshed."

"And how would you like to die, Tyrion, son of Tywin?"

Tyrion swallowed for a moment. "In bed, at the age of eighty, with a belly full of wine and a girl's mouth around my cock."

Shagga gave a low chuckle and glanced at a few of the others around him who shared his amusement. "Take the half man, he can dance for the children. Kill the other ones, I like the big ones armour." He gestured at Njorn.

Idolaf and the rest of the legionaries prepared to charge with their horses, they would probably be able to break out through sheer bulk of arms but Tyrion stopped them with frantic gestures for them to stop. "No, no!" The tribesmen also stopped advancing for a moment, with Shagga looking at the dwarf again. "My house is rich and powerful, if you see us through these mountains my father will shower you with gold."

"We have no use for a half man's promises."

"Half man maybe, but those weapons of yours look like they've seen better days." Tyrion pressed. "They the best you could steal? Lannister smiths shit better steel."

Shagga snorted. "You think you can win us over with your trinkets when we've thirty men's worth of good steel right here?" He gestured to the legionaries with his axe.

Tyrion glanced at Idolaf for a moment before pulling a ring off his finger and tossing it over to Shagga, who caught it. "That trinket, is worth more than everything your tribe has ever looted." The tribesman looked at the ring for a moment before sliding it onto one of his fingers, seeming to like it. "But if you help us, Shagga, son of Dolf, I will not give you trinkets. I will give you this." The dwarf gestured widely around him.

"What is this?" The tribesman asked, looking a bit confused.

"The Vale of Arryn." Tyrion replied, with a slight grin on his face. "The Lords of the Vale have always spat upon the Hill Tribes. The Lords of the Vale want me dead." As he was speaking Shagga slowly understood what he was meaning. "I believe it's time for new Lords of the Vale."

...

"Can't believe that worked." Njorn muttered as he walked alongside Idolaf, the turma having being forced to walk instead of ride as their new 'allies' lacked horses. They were both still leading their horses but Shagga had made it clear that riding horses would result in a swift lack of manhood. Their meeting at the ambush had occurred a couple of hours ago and now all light from the sun had gone and the twin moons were overhead, providing scant light in the thick woodland they were still passing through. As a result most were carrying torches to light their way.

"Well it did. And now we have an escort." Idolaf replied, looking warily at the mob of tribesmen surrounding them. Shagga was at the front of the band with Tyrion, apparently taking them on a different, easier route. "And they seem a better lot than the Forsworn."

Njorn sighed for a moment before giving a quick snort. "Aye, they seem better than those bastards. Though less well armed."

"Well these men at least have some actual weapons, not teeth stuck in sticks." Idolaf objected to his friend and comrade.

"Teeth in sticks they may be but they still got through you." The older Nord nudged Idolaf.

Idolaf sighed. "Never going to let me forget that are you?"

"I'm sure it'll of slipped my mind by the time we reach Sovngarde." Njorn chuckled.

Idolaf rolled his eyes and looked ahead as they walked along the narrow mountain path Shagga was leading them up. After maybe another hour, it was hard to tell with the sun down, the woodland around them began to thin and it became clear they were heading up one of the mountains that made up the natural boundary of the Vale of Arryn. Soon other lights became visible amongst the crags, fires. "Looks like we have more company."

Njorn and Idolaf glanced at the fires as they got closer, both of them able to make out the outlines of what were probably other tribesmen. "Aye, think it's a trap?"

"Doubt it." Idolaf still rested his hand on the hilt of his spatha though, just in case.

As they passed the fires it became clear these were tribesmen from a different clan, for they lacked the goat horn helm and most looked to be armed with a form of primitive spear rather than the stolen farm tools. It wasn't long before Shagga stopped at a plateau on the mountain side, where several different bands of tribesmen were gathered, all slightly different to the others around them.

"Idolaf, Bronn. Over here!" Tyrion called out from the head of the new arrivals.

Handing Njorn his horse's reigns Idolaf walked over along with Bronn, who had been further back in the column. "Aye, Tyrion?"

Tyrion nodded to the two for a moment. "When Shagga kindly offered to see us through the mountains he sent word to the other local tribes." He gestured to the other bands of men who Shagga was now going through, finding their leaders probably. "They're here to decide what to do with us."

"And that means?" Bronn asked, crossing his arms.

"It means they're going to decide if they want to cut off our manhood's and feed them to the goats or if they want to accept a Lannisters promise."

Idolaf glanced over at Shagga, who was now embracing one of the other clan leaders, a rather large one at that. "So this is a council of theirs?"

Tyrion nodded. "According to Shagga it's a custom of theirs, they call it a 'thing'."

Bronn loked back down at the dwarf "A what?"

"A 'thing'." Tyrion replied with a shrug. "Either way there's not much we can do." Idolaf and Bronn nodded slightly, he was right. "And I thought the leader of the legionaries with us would want to be part of the negotiations, should they swing my way." He nodded slightly to Idolaf.

"And me?" Bronn asked.

"I wanted a second person who could kill well enough by my side, should it go badly for us, which I very much hope is not the case."

"Ah." Was Bronn's only reply as he understood.

On the centre of the plateau the several groups of tribesmen stood in a semi circle, the light from their torches causes the shadows to flicker around the stone underfoot. At first Shagga addressed the gathered clansman in his own tongue, a rough language. He made wide gestures, probably to signify the Vale that surrounded them.

When he finished the other clan leaders shouted back in their language, a few sounded approving and some didn't seem convinced. One of them, a middle aged man of average build wearing ill-fitting padded armour, probably stolen. He approached Shagga, calling out. " _Sygerrik_!" Those gathered around muttered to each other, seemingly waiting to see what Shagga would do.

"Any idea what they're sayin'?" Bronn glanced down at Tyrion.

"I have no idea." He replied simply.

As the other chieftain spoke towards Shagga, the larger clansman slowly walked towards him and without saying a word grabbed his shoulder and head butted him, causing the other man to back away grabbing his temple, muttering what were clearly curses. Shagga then walked towards him again and punched him in the side of the head before kicking him over, kicking the man again until he finally went quiet.

After the short and rather brutal beating those gathered seemed to ignore the fallen tribal chief and instead went back to back and forth debate between the other chiefs and leaders. This carried on for a fair while before they all seemed to have reached an agreement and some lower tribesmen had come forward and dragged the unconscious downed chief away.

Shagga, along with a few other of the tribal chiefs and leaders made their way other to Tyrion. "Tyrion, son of Tywin." He began. "We will take you through the passes in return for Mountain and Vale." A few of the others nodded, there were four of them, a woman, a very large man, larger than Shagga, and two other chiefs of relatively normal build.

"My thanks, Shagga son of Dolf." Tyrion bowed his head slightly. "And who are your comrades?"

"Timett, son of Timett." He gestured to the larger one. "Chella, daughter of Cheyt." The woman. "Ulf, son of Ulmar. And Gunthor, son of Gyr." The four other chieftains nodded slightly when they were introduced but beyond that didn't speak or move, just looked between the dwarf, sellsword and Nord.

So it seems they weren't going to be butchered in the arse end of nowhere for their armour after all, Idolaf thought and was very much relieved by that. Waiting until Shagga, Chella, Timett, Ulf and Gunthor left to likely make sure their tribes weren't killing each other and were ready for the long journey to the other side of the mountains that didn't involve well paved roads, Idolaf left Tyrion and Bronn to inform his men that they were okay to set up camp for the night and that they would be making for the Riverlands the next day.

* * *

 __ _Mountains of the Moon, The Vale_ _, Westeros_

Dawn had broken an hour or so ago, sunlight having bathed the mountain sides as the gateway to Aetherius rose over the horizon. Everyone had risen early and blood money had been sorted for the by now dead chieftain, having succumbed to his wounds from Shagga's beating the previous night. With a little distrust the legionaries now walked side by side with around three thousand tribesmen from several clans along the thin mountain roads.

The turma was able to keep a hold of their horses, the rough Colovian breed soldiering on through the craggy pathways whilst carrying their supplies and spare arms. A couple of times the legionaries had to make sure some of the hill tribesmen weren't getting too close lest they try taking from the people they were supposed to be leading and trusting to grant them a kingdom of their own.

Tyrion was, as like when Shagga was leading them to the other tribes, at the front of the now lengthy column, with the tribal leaders. Shagga seemed to be counted as the overall leader of the clansmen, seemingly owed to his strength at arms and show of dominance at the Thing. Idolaf didn't much care for who was the tribesmen's leader; he didn't trust them much either way. They were too like the forsworn for his liking, sharing a similar history and a similar lifestyle, raiders and pillagers.

As of now they were busy climbing the first of the so called 'Mountains of the Moon' owing to their easterly position that saw both of the moons set past them as well as the sun. He knew they were in for a long journey, crossing mountains was never easy, even in a summer like this. It would probably take several days, probably more so given the large number of those travelling, numbers always slowed people down.

* * *

 __ _Kvatch, Cyrodil_ _, Tamriel_

Midday, always peak time at the main gates of Kvatch, capital of Cyroldil after the destruction of the Imperial City. Not a boring post Aurelian thought, but not the most prestigious. "Hold." He held up his hand as a rider approached the gates, clearly not a local from the clothes he wore, probably from Skyrim or High Rock.

The rider pulled his horse to a stop. Both were sweating and had clearly been on a long journey. "I bring a message from the Blue Palace, for Duke Justinianus."

"Show your royal seal." Aurelian ordered, he knew better than to trust a Nord by his word alone.

"Here." The messenger held out the seal of Solitude, black wolf on a white background surrounded by blood red, so similar to Kvatch's own seal.

Checking the seal a last time Aurelian waved the man through. "Safe travels Nord." He nodded to the man as he quickly rode past.

…

"What's this about?" Justinanus, Duke of Kvatch and Lord of Colovia, regent of Cyrodil asked as he walked into the war room.

"Word from the Blue Palace." Flavian, general of the Kvatch militia and one of the many Colovian heroes of the Second Great War answered, holding out the scroll a messenger had brought him.

Taking it Justinianus began to read. "By the order of her eminence, the Empress Elisif of Tamriel invites you and General Flavian to Solitude for a council of war. Bring as many men as can be spared from the Valenwood frontier. The Imperial court expects you in no less than two months. Signed Falk Firebeard, steward of the Empire of Tamriel." He looked up from the scroll. "How many men can be spared?"

"One of the Imperial Legions can be spared from the front, Aldmeri raids have lessened since the rebels started aiding us in putting them down." Flavian replied with a nod. "And we can make preparations for the Kvatch, Skingrad and Anvil militias to mobilise."

Justinianus nodded slightly before beginning to pace, the scroll screwed up in his hand. "Withdraw one of the Legions and don't mobilise the militias, instead recruit those who volunteer, we can't afford to leave ourselves too open to the damn Elves."

"I'll send word to the legate." Flavius gave a nod and turned to leave but stopped partway. "You think we're marching to war again?"

"The Empress would not summon us and any spare men if we weren't." The Duke answered before sitting down in his chair overlooking the table carved into a map of Tamriel. "Colovia will rise again, it seems."

* * *

 **Eadric Haraldsson - Hircine  
Skjor - Hircine  
Mystery person - Try guessing  
Delvin Mallory - Nocturnal**

* * *

 **And that's unlucky chapter 13 done. Yes I know we're still not in Kingslanding yet, having real trouble doing that and I'm seriously considering having it just happen off screen. Think that one's up to what you guys think.  
Again thanks for reading and feel free to leave a review, things are heating up on Nirn.  
Also a slight update thingy. After this I'm going to spend a bit of time sorting out the dates so that this takes place over a longer period than just a couple of months.**


	14. A lion, a soldier and the Iron Throne

**I'm back, I'm not dead.  
Once again sorry this took so long.  
Explainy stuff down the bottom**

* * *

 _Kingslanding, The Crownlands_ _, Westeros_

It was early morning. The sun had crept over the trees of the Kingswood around an hour ago and the legionary camp was buzzing with the usual activity. Hammer strikes rung in the air as the legion smiths busied themselves repairing the arms and armour of the various cohorts, along with the shouts and clash of steel of men practising in the yard inside the palisade. Inside Legate Rikke's tent Severus and Rikke we're going over the map of Westeros again, updating the various borders and notes on the Lord's since the time the map was made nearly a century before.

"Lord of Dorne and Sunspear" Severus read out from the book Neloth had managed to acquire for him from the city. "Doran of house Martell. Heir apparent, Trystan of house Martell." He glanced up as Rikke penned the names on the map. "Apparently they identify as princes due to marrying into the kingdoms rather than being conquered."

Rikke nodded slightly. "Dinontus will want to know that."

Severus sighed. "Yes, I expect he will." He looked back down to the book. "Lord of the Reach, Mace of house Tyrrel. Heir apparent, Loras of house Tyrrel."

"Least they have simple names." The Legate muttered as she continued to make notes before glancing at the entrance to the tent as the sound of hooves came from the outside. "What was the name of that Astapor noble again?"

"Erm..." Severus flicked through several pages. "Kraznys mo..." He stopped midway through as he heard the two sentries outside stand to attention.

Pushing the tent flaps aside the expeditions politician, Dinontus, entered. "We've got a problem." He said plainly before walking over to a table near Rikke's bed that housed a large jug of ale. Pouring himself a tankard and taking a long gulp he breathed out and looked at the other two, who were both looking at him. "Lord Eddard Stark's been arrested for treason. His whole household's been butchered."

Both Rikke and Severus looked at him in silence for what felt like a minute. "Treason?" Was all Severus managed.

"Aye." The Breton took another gulp. "After the King died the Hand marched into the throne room, demanded that the throne pass to Stannis Baratheon and ordered King Joffrey and the Queen arrested."

"And..." Rikke crossed her arms, seemingly recovered from the shock.

"And." Dinontus continued. "The Goldcloaks killed his household guard and took him prisoner. The King then ordered his daughters captured and the rest of his household killed."

Severus groaned and closed the book in his hands and set it down on the table. "And that leaves us where?"

"Without an ally inside the city." The Breton replied plainly before downing what was left of his drink. "The new King also demands you go to the Red Keep, and you alone."

"Why would he want that?" Rikke asked as she crossed her arms.

Guilliman sighed slightly. "He wants to speak to the leader of our little expedition."

"All right, I'll go." Severus announced before Rikke could speak again. "Dinontus, help the Legate with the map until I get back."

The Breton again sighed before nodding slightly and walking over to the table.

* * *

 _The Red Keep, The Crownlands, Westeros_

Severus entered the great hall of the Red Keep, his armoured boots sending a ring out as he walked. Inside the Colovian saw there was a large gathering of nobles directly in front of the Iron Throne, upon which sat the new King, the blonde haired boy Joffrey. Alongside the king were the queen mother and the small council, minus King Robert's brother, odd he thought.

"Thane Semponius of Skyrim." A page called out, introducing him.

Stopping just ahead of the nobles Severus knelt down. "Your grace. You summoned me."

"I did, Ser." The king replied evenly, though there was a slight iciness to his voice. "Rise." Severus did so, resting a hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Do you know why you were summoned?" The queen asked, looking directly at him with a smirk.

"To speak with the leader of our expedition, your grace."

"You were associated with Lord Eddard Stark, a traitor." The old Grand Maestor wheezed beside the throne. "Why should we trust you and your men to remain outside this city?"

Severus glanced across those above him and ignored the hushed whispers of the nobles behind him. "My business with Lord Stark was only to secure permission for me and those with me to search this land for who we seek."

The King leaned forward. "And who is it you seek?"

"Dangerous men, I believe." Varys intoned from the back of the raised platform.

Joffrey glanced for a moment to his side before focusing back on Severus. "And these dangerous men require an army to be camped outside of my city?"

"An army that requires feeding at the Kingdoms expense." The middle aged councillor, who Dinontus had told him was a Petyr Baelish, added.

"We pay for our supplies with a fair price, as was agreed." Severus stated quickly, drawing a slight smirk from the Master of Coin. "And the people we are here for are more than just dangerous, your grace."

Joffrey leant back on the Iron Throne. "More than dangerous you say? What threat do they pose to my kingdom?"

Severus didn't reply for a moment, instead glancing around the throne room. Besides those behind him there were others standing in railed corridor to the side, amongst them were more nobles and one who looked out of a place. A girl, barely a teenager, with red hair and an empty expression. Looking back to the king he began to speak. "Your grace, if these individuals are not found and captured soon they could bring down your very kingdom."

"What treason is this?" The King asked, anger in his voice. "No one can destroy my kingdom, not while I rule." There were again more hushed whispers behind Severus.

Glancing at those surrounding the King again and down at the Kingsguard who stood on watch in front of him, only five he noted. "Your grace they can and will destroy the Seven Kingdoms given a chance."

The queen's smirk changed to a scowl. "Then what steps are you taking to find them?"

"Your grace, we have three Turmas of cavalry searching for them in the Kingdom. One has head north to the Wall where Lord Stark informed us one might be. The other two are searching the Crownlands, investigating villages and towns."

"Who gave your permission to send armed cavalry into my lands?" The King demanded.

"King Robert, your grace."

Joffrey scowled. "I am the King now, and I will not have armed foreigners going wherever they please searching for some criminals you couldn't keep in your own lands."

Severus looked directly at the king, eyes narrowing. Before he could reply though Varys spoke. "Perhaps your grace, it would be good to allow them to continue, these individuals could prove the threat they suggest they are."

The King again glanced at Varys and shifted on the Iron Throne. "And what do my other councillors advise?"

"I think it might be wiser..." The Grand Maestor spoke painfully slowly. "To permit them, your grace."

"They pay well for their time here, your grace." Baelish added, seemingly more than happy to support both sides of them being here.

Joffrey turned and looked to his mother for several moments, until she gave a very subtle nod. "A king will follow his council then. Ser Severus, you will be permitted to stay. But you will remain in the Red Keep, as responsible for your men."

Severus stared at the king for several moments before nodding. "Of course, your grace."

The king nodded slightly, a smirk spreading across his face. "Yes, you may leave. I'm sure we'll find some chambers suited for you."

Bowing his head slightly Severus glanced at those surrounding Joffrey before turning on his heels and leaving the great hall.

...

"Well..." Dinontus sighed as he paced Severus' new room. "It could've been far worse."

Severus nodded slightly as he lowered himself into a chair by the window. "Aye, it could've been." He looked around his newly acquired chambers, they weren't grand but neither were they poor, still bigger than his old bedroom in Breezehome before he built his own estate.

"I can see why the king wants you here in all honesty." Guilliman continued. "You're a useful hostage for them. Leader of the expedition and all." He looked pointedly at the chair opposite Severus for a moment.

Gesturing for the Breton to sit Severus rose a hand to his chin, stroking the short hairs that were growing there, he needed a shave. "I know. These anything like your chambers here?"

Dinontus sat down and shook his head. "Mine aren't exactly the most luxurious around. After all I'm just a foreign diplomat to them."

"Thought they'd take notice of a nobleman despite you not being from here."

"I'm only a minor noble, likely only on par with their knights." Guilliman explained, looking out the window at the admittedly stunning view of the bay. "And you're Thane to the most influential man in Skyrim."

"Jarl Balgruuf is just that, a Jarl." Severus stated firmly.

Guilliman nodded, but Severus swore he saw him smirk slightly, if for just only a moment. "Yes, he's just a Jarl. But he's the Jarl everyone says will succeed Empress Elisif should she die childless and before him."

The Colovian sighed. "I thought I made it clear on our journey here we would not have this conversation again."

"You did. But think about it from an outsiders perspective, not yours. You're the chief vassal of the man widely considered to be second only to the Empress. It's likely the Spider already knows more than that about you, like it or not you're part of the game now."

"The Spider? The game?" Severus shook his head. "What are you going on about?"

Dinontus smirked again, clearer this time. "Lord Varys is known as the Spider, effective little nickname of his. And as for the game. Well... In this keep sits the Iron Throne, a throne that commands seven old kingdoms and nine regions. A realm larger than the Empire of Tamriel even at the height of its glory. To these people, who sits on that throne is everything. The Queen even has a saying about it."

"And that is?"

Guilliman chuckled. "When you play the Game of Thrones, you either win or you die."

The Colovian shook his head slightly. "So she thinks that by the end of it only her and her son are going to be alive?"

"I believe that's what she wants to happen, yes." Dinontus nodded.

There was a short silence between the two before Severus spoke up again. "Any word from the Turmas?"

Guilliman nodded quickly. "Yes, we've received reports from Decanus Antonius' force that they've entered Crackclaw Point, see if the Clawmen tolerate our presence. A raven also arrived from Duskendale that Decanus Ragnar's men were received and that Lord Rykker expects compensation for their quarters while they search the town."

"Anything from the first expedition?"

"No..." The Breton shook his head. "Nothing since they were spotted at the Inn at the Crossroads."

* * *

 _Tywins' Camp, The Riverlands, Westeros_

Idolaf followed Tyrion down the rows upon rows of red tents along with Shagga, Timett and Chella. Their journey through the mountains hadn't taken as long as he'd reckoned due the knowledge of the route the clansmen held. During the journey though there had been repeated attempts by a few of the tribesmen to steal some of the supplies the legionaries possessed, though every time they were driven off, if only barely.

Ahead of him, Tyrion walked to the largest tent and entered. Entering the tent after the three chiefs Idolaf saw two men, both older than himself. One was sitting and the other standing. "Tyrion." The standing one said with a surprised tone.

"Uncle." Tyrion nodded to him nonchalantly before giving another to the sitting man. "Father." So that must be the great Tywin Lannister, Idolaf thought. He had to admit he looked the part of High Lord, wouldn't look out of place on an throne.

"The rumours of your demise were unfounded." Lord Tywin noted.

"Sorry to disappoint you." Tyrion replied, looking slightly towards the floor.

Tywin stared at Tyrion for a few moments before looking up at Bronn, Idolaf and the three chieftains. "And who are these... companions, of yours?"

Tyrion breathed out for a moment before turning to those standing behind him. "This is Shagga, son of Dolf, chieftain of the Stone Crows. Timett, son of Timett, ruler of the Burned Men." He started with the two before gesturing to Chella. "This fair maid is Chella, daughter of Cheyt, leader of the Black Ears." The Dwarf then turned to Bronn. "And here we have Bronn, son of..."

"You wouldn't know him." Bronn shrugged to Tywin.

Rolling his eyes slightly Tyrion looked to Idolaf. "And finally this is Idolaf, son of Olfrid, Decanus of the Imperial Legion of Tamriel." Idolaf gave a slight nod. "May I present my Lord Father, Tywin, son of Tytos of House Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West. Kind of you to go to war for me." Tyrion added as he moved to sit down in front of Tywin and grab a hold onto a jug, likely of wine, before Tywin lifted the jug out of his reach with another scowl.

"You left us no choice. The honour of the house was at stake." Tywin said, not breaking the scowl. "Your brother would never have submitted to capture so meekly."

"We have our differences, Jaime and I." Tyrion replied calmly. "He's braver, I'm better looking."

"He's been covering himself in glory" Twyin informed the dwarf.

Beside the two Tyrion's uncle spoke up. "Jaime smashed the Riverlords at the Golden Tooth, and now lays siege to Riverrun, Catelyn Stark's homeland."

"And the Stark's Lord, Eddard?" Tyrion asked.

"Is our hostage." Tywin answered his son. "He will lead no armies from his dungeon cell"

This brought idolaf's attention, their journey North could prove difficult with the Stark's and Lannisters clawing at each other's necks after Idolaf had been seen publicly to have helped a Lannister.

"How did my sweet sister persuade the king to imprison his dear friend Ned?"

"Robert Baratheon is dead." Tywin replied lowly. "Joffrey rules in Kingslanding."

Tyrion looked up at his uncle for a moment before looking back to Tywin. "My sister rules you mean."

"Starks' son has called his banners." Tyrion's uncle explained. "He moves south with a strong host." So there really was going to be another war, Idolaf thought. Senseless waste.

"Green boy." Tywin scoffed. "One taste of battle and he'll run back to Winterfell with his tail between his legs."

Tyrion glanced out of the tent flap. "Maybe, though the boy does have a certain belligerence. You'd like him." Tywin narrowed his eyes for a moment before Tyrion continued. "While we're on the subject of war, I made promises to my friends here." He turned and gestured to Idolaf and the three clansmen. "And a Lannister always pays his debts. We shall require three thousand helms and shields, plus swords, pikes, gorges and maces. And a ship for my friend there." He gestured to Idolaf.

When Tyrion finished a messenger entered the tent and instantly went down to a knee. "If it please my Lord, Ser Addam bids me report that the Northmen have crossed the Neck."

Lord Tywin stood. "The wolf rushes into the lion's jaws, so be it. Kevan," He instructed his brother. "Command the drummers beat assembly." Kevan nodded and moved to leave the tent, gesturing the messenger follow him. "Send word to Jaime that I'm moving against Robb Stark."

Kevan nodded again. "At once my Lord." Before leaving the tent, followed by the messenger.

As the two men left the tent Lord Tywin moved down the line of those gathered, narrowing his eyes at Idolaf before moving the three chieftains. "It is said the men of the mountain clans are great warriors." He talked to Shagga. "Ride with me against my enemies and you will have all that my son promised you and more.

"Only if the halfman fights with us. Until we get the steel he pledged us, the little lion's life is ours." Shagga responded.

Tywin glanced down at Tyrion for a few moments before looking back to Shagga. "Very well. Tyrion..." He looked back to his son. "See to it your new comrades are housed."

The dwarf looked uneasy but nodded very slightly. "Yes, father." He pushed himself out of the chair and left the tent, gesturing for the others to follow him.

Idolaf also made to leave before Tywin looked at him. "Not you." The Lord ordered and the two men stood there for a moment as the others left the tent, Tyrion giving Idolaf a concerned look before finally leaving sight. "So, my son promised you a ship? Why?"

"Me and my men need to get the Wall. There's someone there we're hunting." The Nord replied.

Lord Tywin scoffed. "Whoever it is you're searching for, the Nightswatch has him now." He moved back to the table and studied the map again. "Now, arms and armour can be made quickly and cheaply for Tyrion's new rabble, they'll make a useful vanguard if nothing else. But a ship, the Lannister fleet is small enough already and to spare one for the voyage to the Wall and back would be folly in times like these."

"Your son promised us."

"A promise he did not have the resources nor capacity to keep." The older Lord snapped. "I'd heard of your little expedition in Kingslanding, and your encounter with my son in that inn along with Catelyn Stark. You went from his captors to his companions. As far as I'm concerned any debt House Lannister owes you and your men has been settled." He glanced up at Idolaf, who still towered over the Lannister patriarch. "Unless you ride with my forces against the Northmen we have nothing else to discuss on the matter. I will allow you to leave this camp unharmed if you refuse, but any other hospitality will not be afforded you."

Idolaf clenched a fist. "I will not risk my men dying in a war that is not theirs for a ship."

"Then you refuse, so be it." Tywin stated. "Get out of my encampment."

Idolaf glared at the westermen before turning and leaving the tent.

...

"Didn't go too well then?" Tyrion asked as he walked over after seeing Idolaf leave the tent.

Idolaf stopped in his tracks and turned to face the dwarf. "Your father refused us what you promised unless we side with him in this war."

"Ah..." Tyrion nodded slightly. "Thought that might happen. So, going to head north again?"

The Nord nodded. "I'm done being dragged around, making no progress."

Tyrion chuckled slightly. "Nords, never like being told what to do for long, do you?" He asked rhetorically. "Anyway, thought you might want this." He held out a parchment, which Idolaf took and began to unroll. "Map of Westeros, so you don't have to ask directions again."

Studying the map for a few moments Idolaf rolled it back up. "My thanks, Lannister, good luck in your war."

"I'll need it." Tyrion grimaced slightly. "Good journey, Battle-born." He held out a hand, which Idolaf shook before leaving to get back to his men.

* * *

 **Eadric Haraldsson - Hircine  
Skjor - Hircine  
Mystery person - Try guessing  
Delvin Mallory - Nocturnal**

* * *

 **Alright thanks for reading, as always feel free to leave a review, every last one helps.  
After the somewhat mixed reception of the last chapter, decided we needed a bit of an insight with what's going on down in Kinglsanding and to get Idolaf back on track to actually doing his job.  
Besides that thank you again for reading and the next chapter is already in the works so should be out soonish, maybe in a week or two.**


	15. A play, a corpse and the boy King

**And here we go, not a month after the last one for once.  
As usual, hope you enjoy the read.**

* * *

 _The Red Keep, The Crownlands, Westeros_

"Ser Severus." A page called out as Severus walked towards the sparring court of the Red Keep.

"Thane." Severus corrected as he stopped and looked towards the page. "What is it?"

"King Joffrey commands your presence."

Semponius internally sighed. "And where is the King?"

"The Throne Room, milord."

Severus nodded to the page and moved past him, heading to the great hall.

...

After a few minutes Severus walked through the large doors of the great hall. Inside was the boy king, Joffrey, sitting on the Iron Throne. To his right was the Queen mother and to his left sat Baelish, the financier of the kingdoms. "Your grace." Severus gave a slight bow.

"Thane Semponius, my father said you fought in a war, alongside your _Empire's_ Imperial Legion. Is that true?" Joffrey demanded rather than asked.

"Yes, your grace. I fought alongside the Fourth Legion during the Second Great War."

"And how effective in combat is this Legion?"

Severus glanced towards Baelish, who was jotting something down. "Supremely." He answered. "The Legion has no match in Tamriel on the field."

"How do they compare to the others in Tamriel?" Joffrey pressed.

"The Legion is more organised, disciplined and well equipped than any other race in Tamriel. The Nords of Skyrim rely on hold warriors and a levy, they call it the Fyrd." Severus explained.

"What composes the fird?" Baelish asked, not looking up from the book.

Severus looked at the master of coin. "The Fyrd." He corrected. "And the fyrd is made up of farmers, craftsman, labourers. Every Nord is expected to take their place in the shield wall should they be needed."

"You mentioned hold warriors." The King spoke again. "Do you mean warriors of a particular holdfast?"

"Skyrim is divided into nine holds, each is ruled by a Jarl. The hold warriors make up the guards who patrol the hold, the warriors sworn directly to the Jarl and those sworn to the Jarl's Thanes." Severus elaborated. "The men sworn to me are some of the hold warriors of Whiterun Hold."

Joffrey leaned back in the Iron Throne. "So each of these Jarls is a lord and the hold guard are the liege levies. Is this how the Legion operates?"

Severus shook his head. "No, the Legion is comprised of professional soldiers and they're loyal to the Empress directly. Each legionary serves for twenty five years."

"A royal army." Joffrey declared, a smile pasted on his face, though it looked off somehow. "Has it ever lost a war?"

Severus looked up for a moment, thinking. "A few." He turned back to the king. "The Invasion of Akivir, the Invasion of _the_ Akiviri and the conquests of Tiber Septim. The First Great War ended in a stalemate, though the second was a victory for the Empire."

The King looked a big put out but kept asked another question. "Who did you fight in these 'Great Wars'? The Nords?"

"No, your grace, Skyrim is a province of the Empire." He failed to mention the Civil war, not in front of a foreign king. "The Great Wars were invasion by the Second Aldmeri Dominion, they wished to conquer the realms of men and... to wipe us out."

The Queen, who had until now just watched on with a smirk on her face, spoke up. "And what do you mean by that, ser? Surely they did not mean to eradicate all their fellow men?"

"They're not men, your grace." Severus replied quickly, King Robert had barely believed him, he doubted the new one would. "The Second Aldmeri Dominion is an Elven empire, ruled by the Altmer, the High Elves."

"Elves? You expect us to be believe such nonsense?" The Queen spat, her smirk replaced with a scowl. Joffrey also displayed a scowl.

Severus sighed inwardly. "Your grace, there's an Elf serving as our... advisor back at camp."

"Send for him, I expect to see an Elf." The king ordered.

"Of course, your grace."

Joffrey's scowl lessened. "You may go. But I expect an Elf in front of me by tomorrow."

Severus bowed his head. "Your grace." He stood straight again before turning and leaving, his boots impact on the stone floor echoing around the hall.

* * *

 _Castle Black, the North, Westeros_

Eadric dragged the sled carrying the corpses of Othor and Jaffer flowers through the Walls inner gate and into the courtyard of Castle Black. Stopping a few metres in he dropped the rope and chuckled slightly as Jon and Sam stood up from the strain of pushing it that far and again as when they noticed he didn't show any signs of tiring.

Behind him he heard someone walking up and soon Mormont came into view, standing beside the sled. "That's Othor, without a doubt." He muttered as he looked the corpses over.

"Other one's Jaffer Flowers milord." Yarwyck gestured to the former rangers stump. "That's the hand the wolf tore off."

Mormont nodded slowly. "Any sign of Benjen, or the rest of his party?"

Beside him Jon tensed. "Just these two, milord." He managed. "Been dead a while I'd say."

Jeor nodded grimly and glanced at Sam, who was leaning closer to the sled. "The smell." He spoke after a while.

Leaning forward himself Eadric found he couldn't smell anything, which immediately sent faint shivers down his spine. "There ain't none." He muttered. "I don't like this."

"They'd rot if they'd been dead for a long time, wouldn't they?" Sam wondered.

"Aye they would..." The Nord nodded. "Unless..."

"What is it, Haraldsson?" Jeor asked, and Eadric saw most of the others gathered were now looking at him, along with those on the railing above.

Looking back down at the corpses for a moment and looking towards their eyes reinforced Eadric's fears. "Look at the eyes, pale blue, too pale to be natural."

Yarwyck also leant forward. "Aye, pale blue... Othor had green eyes, didn't he?"

Above them one of the other Watchman called down. "Aye he did."

"You don't think..." Sam looked to Eadric. "That they could be..."

Eadric prodded Jaffer with his foot. "Draugr." He breathed.

"Draugr?" Jon asked, looking confused.

"Ancient Nord dead." Eadric began. "They walk the halls of the tombs that dot Skyrim. Their eyes glow blue. Not like this but it's damn close. Should burn them, just to be sure."

"Aye, should burn them." Jon agreed.

"Haraldsson and Snow aren't wrong, milord. Fire will do for 'em, the Wilding way." Yarwyck agreed

Mormont grimaced as glanced at Eadric for a moment before looking back down at the two. "I want Maestor Aemon to examine them. Haraldsson, you'll be with him, they show more signs of being these draugr... end them." Eadric nodded to him. "Get them inside."

"Come on, you heard him." Yarwyck pushed the nearby Pip to the sled.

Pip and Jon grabbed the end of the sled and began to push before another watchman caught their attention stopping them. "Lord Commander." The assembled looked up at the railing. "Maestor Aemon awaits you in his chambers. A raven, from Kingslanding."

...

Maestor Aemon hadn't had time to inspect the bodies that day, instead he was supposed to do them the next morning with Tarly and Eadric present. Sam was to be his eyes during the inspection and the Nord was to be there in case they were what he suspected they were. Since the news from Kingslanding though Aemon's attention was elsewhere and Mormont was had been busy keeping Snow under control and after the bastard had tried to kill Thorne he had been confined to quarters.

It was night now though and Eadric found it difficult to sleep, the possibility of draugr being north of the Wall had filled him with a certain dread. While they might've been easy enough to kill in the tombs of Skyrim they always came in numbers and if the stories were to be believed, there would be thousands like them north of the Wall.

A shout disturbed him from his thoughts and he quickly rose to his feet. Another shout, followed by more alerted him that something very wrong had happened in the castle. Bolting through the door of the chambers he had been inhabiting since he'd arrived with Tyrion he grabbed his sword from its position leant against the wall and unsheathed it, heading towards the source of the yelling, the south eastern tower of the castle.

Finding the door to the officers barracks already open he rushed in and his fears were immediately confirmed. In the centre of the room was Jaffer Flowers, holding Ser Alliser Thorne by the throat and trying to claw at him, only being stopped by the experienced ranger's mail armour.

Eadric rushed forward and Flowers either didn't notice him or was too focused on Thorne to other facing him so didn't turn to face him. Bringing his sword up the Nord grabbed a hold of Jaffer's hair and ran the skyforge steel blade across the back of his neck, severing the dead man's head.

Jaffer quickly went limp and dropped Thorne who desperately grasped for air before accepting Eadric's outstretched hand and pulling himself up. "Seven hells Haraldsson, you're a sight for sore eyes." He breathed out. "It got Rykker." He pointed behind him at the corpse of Jaremy Rykker, who had only a few hours before lead Eadric, Sam and Jon beyond the Wall. The two approached the dead ranger who had by the looks of it had had his neck snapped by Flowers.

Behind them they heard another enter and turned to see Yarwyck running through the door, sword in hand. "Seven hells!" He exclaimed and pointed at Flowers he who writhing on the floor and after a few moments rose quickly, his head still laying beside him.

Without a moments hesitation Eadric roared and charged the draugr like thing and slashed at an arm that tried to strike him, cutting straight though it. As the severed arm fell to the floor Eadric grabbed Flowers by throat and yanked him off the ground, bringing his immense strength to bear. With another roar from exertion he threw the walking corpse with all his might and the sickening crunch of bones breaking from its impact with the wall filled the air.

Again though after a few moments the corpse somehow rose to its feet again and this time all three charged it and started hacking at it, soon reducing the deceased watchman to little more than a pile of stale blood and limbs that kept on twitching but otherwise presented no threat. The three men stopped when such became apparent, panting from the effort of the repeated swings. "Seven fucking hells." Thorne cursed, prodding the severed limbs with the tip of his sword and taking a few steps back, along with the others, when the remaining hand made a clear attempt to grab the end of the blade.

"Fuck." Was all Yarwyck managed for a while as he moved to one of the walls and leant against it, gathering his breath. "Fucking thing got Rykker as well." He growled when he saw the fallen Ranger.

"Came when I heard the yelling." Eadric stated, bending down and picking up a ragged remain of the cloak Jaffer once wore and wiping his bloodied blade. "Not soon enough."

Thorne cursed under his breath again and stabbed his sword into a wooden post, releasing stress. "First Benjen! Now this!" He screamed and kicked the still twitching head of Flowers into the wall.

Outside the thud of many feet on the wooden platform outside the tower became evident and soon several other Watchman, each with some sort of weapon, were at the door. "Milords!" The one at their head called as he entered the room, stopping when he saw the mess that had been produced.

"What!?" Thorne yelled, clearly beyond having lost his temper.

The Watchman took a step back. "We heard yellin' and fightin'. We came quick as we could."

"Well you're fucking too late for that now!" Alliser snapped.

As the somewhat stunned newly arrived black brothers thought other their chances of not being killed by Thorne later another came running along the platform and burst through them. "Lord Commander Mormont! He's been attacked!"

In an instant Thorne rushed through the door, pushing those there out of his way, followed by Yarwyck and a few feet after by Eadric. On the opposite side of the courtyard, by the north western tower was Mormont and Jon Snow, the bastard clutching his hand and the Old Bear barking orders to at the top of his lungs. "Water! Put that fire out!" For a moment those by the south eastern tower were a bit confused before they saw the tell tale lick of orange coming from the window to the Lord Commander quarters.

Ser Allisser quickly grabbed one of the watchman who had come after Jaffers second demise by the shoulder. "You heard the man! Water!" He screamed into the poor man's ear. The others didn't wait around to receive the same treatment and scurried off to join the others fighting the fire before it spread any further.

...

Several hours later the sun began to climb over the horizon behind the thick clouds that surrounded the castle, making the top of the Wall invisible. Before the bleak light had arrived the small fire had been put out with little effort but now there was another matter that was being dealt with.

Outside the gate of Castle Black the pyre of Jaremy Rykker had been prepared and his last rights recited before being burnt, so as to avoid him raising like the occupants of the second pyre lit an hour later. Sam, Jon, Green, Pyp, Rast and Eadric along with several others behind them or on the rampart above stood around the burning remains of Othor and Jaffer Flowers.

"They weren't draugr." Eadric stated as the flames spat up. "Draugr die same way as men, not like these."

Beside him Sam nodded grimly. "Touched by White Walkers, that's why they came back, that's why their eyes turned blue." The other new Watchman looked at Sam. "Only fire will stop them."

"How do you know that?" Jon asked, still holding his bandaged hand from his own fight with Othor, having grabbed a lantern and thrown it on Othor when stabbing him had failed to work.

"Read it in a book." Came the predictable answer from Tarly. "A very old book in maester Aemon's library."

Jon grimaced and looked back at the pyre. "What else did the book say?"

"The White Walkers sleep beneath the ice for thousands of years, and when they wake up..." He stopped, gulping for a moment.

"When they wake up?" Pyp pressed.

Sam breathed out and looked up at the Wall, the top still not visible. "I hope the Wall's high enough." All those gathered looked up at the Wall and a shiver ran down Eadric's neck.

* * *

 _Sanguine's plane of Oblivion_

Sanguine, Prince of excess and debauchery, idly drank from his wine goblet as he watched a theatrical rendition of the Lusty Argonian Maid. He had to admit it was more entertaining in its written form but by oblivion was his Argonian acolyte trying.

"Here, polish my spear." His acolyte playing Crantius Colto purred.

"But it is huge! It could take me all night!" Lifts-Her-Tail replied in the mock shock he assumed the director had instructed her to say it in.

The Daedra again sipped from the wine when the entrance portal to his outdoor gentleman's specialist theatre opened and Hircine walked through.

For a moment the Daedric Prince of the hunt looked a bit confused as to what was going on but very quickly caught on when Lifts-Her-Tail began polishing Crantius Colto's spear. Soundly ignoring what was on display Hircine walked over to Sanguine. "Call Meridia." He quickly demanded.

"Can't you see I'm in the middle of something, brother?" Sanguine gestured to the play in front of him.

"Yes, I can." Hircine crossed his arms. "And I need to speak with Meridia, now."

Sanguine sighed and snapped his fingers, momentarily pausing the two 'actors' in time. "You could just go to the Coloured Rooms and speak to her there, brother."

The Prince of the hunt sighed. "Just call our sister."

"Fine, fine." Sanguine acquiesced and snapped his fingers, transporting them both to the large meeting room of the various Daedric Princes. Sitting down in his throne at the end of the room Sanguine summoned a Dremora sworn to him. "Go find Meridia, request she comes here." The Dremora quickly bowed its horned head and teleported out of the room. "What is this about, dear brother?"

Hircine sat himself down in his carved wooden throne. "Westeros."

"Ran into a few problems, brother?" Sanguine asked with a teasing voice.

Before Hircine could answer the doors to the chamber swung open and Meridia entered, the beautiful, if cold Daedric Prince of life glaring at Sanguine. "What is it Sanguine?"

"A pleasure to see you too, sweet sister." Sanguine rolled his eyes. "But it's Hircine who wanted you." He gestured to the deer headed prince.

At the mention of Hircine Meridia's face softened and she looked across at the Prince of the Hunt and gave him a quick nod before walking over to her white stone throne. "You know you could've easily come to the Coloured Rooms, brother."

"That's what I told him." Sanguine muttered, which earned him another glare from Meridia.

"My champion in Westeros found something that may be of concern to you, sweet sister." Hircine stated before Meridia could spat back at Sanguine. "He's found undead."

Meridia's face grew dark. "Undead in Westeros... Where?"

"At the north of the continent. And it's worse than just normal undead sister. They can withstand mortal blows, not like undead of Tamriel. Only fire will stop them."

Meridia nodded slightly and linked her fingers in front of her. "That's troubling, though such necromancy will have to be punished, eradicated." She sighed for a moment. "My Champion is in Essos and it will take too long for them to get to the north of Westeros. Unless..." She looked across at Sanguine

Sanguine idly drank again from the wine goblet he'd summoned, Avalon Red this time. "I'm not teleporting your Champion, sweet sister, not what after your little pet did to my realm."

"Umaril's been dead for two centuries, Sanguine."

"That may be but it took my servants two months to get the palace back in order, two months!"

Hircine quickly raised a hand. "Siblings..." He called out in a raised voice and the two looked at him, though he was focusing more on Meridia. "There is another option, a way to get reinforcements to this Wall of theirs without having to turn to the other Princes there."

"And that is?" Meridia asked, leaning forward.

"Malacath." Hircine replied, a grin spreading across his deer like head.

* * *

 **Eadric Haraldsson - Hircine  
Skjor - Hircine  
Mystery person - Unknown  
Delvin Mallory - Nocturnal  
Unknown Champion - Meridia**

* * *

 **15 done, woo!  
All reviews welcome as always  
Thanks for reading!**


	16. A letter, a greatsword and the Orc Lord

**And next chapter's here, sorry for its short length. Hope you enjoy it.**

* * *

 _Sanguine's Plane of Oblivion_

Three Daedric Princes occupied the grand meeting hall that Sanguine was beginning to regret agreeing to host. _Couldn't they have just invaded one of the lesser realms and used that?_ He thought as he gazed at the richly decorated ceiling of the chamber from his position on his opulent throne. He wasn't sitting on it per se, more draped upon it, his legs hanging off of one of the arm rests while his back leant against the other. "You two owe me for this." He loudly declared, glancing at Meridia and Hircine, both of whom were sat on their thrones in the traditional manner. "Letting Malacath in here was never part of the deal."

"I'm sure we can find a way of paying you back brother." Hircine replied evenly.

Sanguine sighed. "Boethiah just had to eat him rather than kill him, didn't she?" The Prince of debauchery muttered to himself.

"Oh grow up, brother." Meridia scolded him, she always did that. "It's only this once."

Sanguine looked at the Prince of life and smirked. "Course it is, don't think I'm letting him in here again."

Meridia scowled at him but didn't reply, instead glancing to the doors. Sure enough the doors began to open with a low rumble and when they were wide enough to permit him, their large nephew entered. Taking his usual form of a large, heavy set Orc with a massive blade strapped to his back, Malacath walked into the Daedric meeting hall. "What?" His low growl of a voice demanded.

"Malacath." Hircine stood from his throne and approached him.

"Hircine." Malacath replied, his voice still in the low growl but held a hint of respect. It was well known that of the various princes Malacath respected the Lord of the Hunt the most. Or the more realistic was he disliked him the least. "What do you want?"

Meridia also stood from her throne. "You've heard of our plans for Westeros, Malacath?"

"I have." He growled. "You've found something you want dead? Do it yourself."

"Malacath." Meridia pressed. "It's beyond me or Hircine." She looked pointedly at Hircine, who nodded in agreement. "Hircine's champion found undead."

The Orc lord let out a deep grumble, a laugh. "Why should I care? And if you do so much, ask your brethren, not me."

"You'd rather they go to Boethiah, nephew?" Sanguine asked lazily from his throne.

Malacath tensed and around him the chamber seemed to darken. "Boethiah!? That weak, cowardly, deceitful _witch_ couldn't do anything!" He roared at Sanguine, drawing a smirk from the Prince of excess.

Shooting a glare at Sanguine Meridia put a hand on Malacath's shoulder, slowly calming him. "Malacath." The Prince of life soothed in gentle tone, gone was the usual ice queen. "We need the Orcs. If we do nothing, then Westeros will burn and become the land of the undead."

"Why should I care what happens to that forgotten continent?" Malacath spat.

"The Orcs will have battle, blood and glory if they go, Malacath." Hircine answered. "They will honour you in conflict the likes of which Mundus hasn't seen since the Ehlnofey Wars."

Malacath brushed off Meridia's hand. "Nothing will ever compare to the wars with Shor and Tsun." He breathed. "Nothing will compare to when I crushed them both."

"You know, nephew." Sanguine spoke up from his throne, earning another glare from Meridia. "The Orcs haven't fought in a proper war for centuries, at least not outside of that Empire men are so fond of."

"Don't call me _nephew_." Malacath growled and took a step towards the seated Prince of excess but Meridia stopped him, placing her hand on his shoulder again.

"Calm, Malacath." She again soothed. Shooting another, fiercer glare at Sanguine. "But he is right. This is a chance for the Orcs to honour you in glorious battle again."

Pushing off her hand again, Malacath turned to the door. "I... Will consider it." He breathed in that low grumble of a voice before storming out of the meeting hall.

Silence reigned over the hall, only broken by Sanguine's voice. "Well, that went better than I expected."

"Oh will you shut up!" Meridia snapped at him.

* * *

 _The Red Keep, The Crownlands, Westeros_

The morning sun that would usually be plastered against the walls of Guilliman Dinontus' room was instead blocked by the thin curtains pulled to. The southern apartment taking the full brunt of the morning light apparently made it difficult for the Breton to work, too used to the dim morning light of the northern climate of High Rock and Skyrim. The Breton himself was sat at his rather modest desk, penning a letter in reply to a Lord Pyne of Crackclaw Point. "Should we offer monetary compensation or...?" Dinontus asked Severus, who was sat opposite him, reading idly from a Westerosi history book.

"What can we offer besides septims?"

The Breton shrugged. "Trade rights? Army debentures? Could maybe offer Lord Pyne Legate Rikke's private stash of Colovian Brandy." He mused.

Severus sighed and flicked the page. "I highly doubt Erikur will allow trade rights to just be handed out. And this Lord could try to actually cash in on the debenture."

"Septims it is then." Guilliman continued with the letter. "One wonders what we'll do when we run out."

"We were given five chest loads."

"And we've gotten through two already." Dinontus shot back. "We can perhaps make use of the war to provide ourselves with a steady supply of gold dragons."

The Colovian oppoosite him put down the book and crossed his arms. "You suggest war profiteering?"

Dinontus shrugged again. "The Khajiit caravans have been doing it for millennia. And it wouldn't be more than putting refugees to work like we did during the Second Great War, or opening up our smiths services."

"You think Commander Slynt is going to tolerate us doing more damage to his precious city's outskirts?"

"No." Guillemin acquiesced. "But I think we can show ourselves as useful enough to the king that he'll allow us to begin preparations to farm our own crops."

"Need I remind you of the Stark words, Dinontus?"

The Breton chuckled very slightly. "We brought along crop seed well suited to the winter in the southern regions in case we needed to give a few gifts to King Robert, thankfully we didn't."

"Who's idea was that?"

"Falk's." Guilliman answered, already back to writing the letter. "I sent word to Rikke. Neloth shall be joining us here in the castle of Maegor this afternoon."

Severus nodded slowly and picked up the book again, detailing the conquests of Aegon. "Good, the king demanded it be today."

"I'd heard." Dinontus put the quill he was using back in the ink pot and waited for the last of the ink to dry. "I've left it up to Lord Pyne to decide what form of compensation he desires. Should get us in his good graces. We need a Clawman Lord on our side if we want to search that wilderness."

"Long as it isn't too extravagant." Severus sighed. "Has Lord Rykker received his gold?"

Guilliman glanced around his desk and soon picked up a small parchment and held it out to Severus. "Arrived this morning by raven."

Severus took the parchment and read it, just a message saying the gold had been received and that the Turma staying in Duskendale had moved on. "That's something at least."

Dinontus rolled the letter to Lord Pyne up and dripped some hot wax onto the end before taking a stamp with the Imperial Dragon on it. "Once we have word from Crackclaw we can move on from the Crownlands. Though that may be difficult in the coming months. What with the North, Stormlands, Reach, Riverlands and whatever lands Stannis Baratheon holds hostile to the crown." He pressed the stamp onto the wax.

Severus nodded slightly in agreement and the two fell into a silence, only to be broken by a sharp knock at the door. "Enter." Guilliman instructed and the door opened and a page walked in, bowing to the two foreigners.

"Thane Severus, the King demands your presence at the gates."

Placing the book on Aegon's conquest the Colovian stood. "Ensure that Neloth stays in here if he arrives while I'm gone."

"I will." Guilliman stood as well, gesturing to the page to come closer to him. "Make sure this gets to Lord Edwyle Pyne of Crackclaw Barren." He handed the letter to the page as Severus left the room, heading towards the main courtyard.

...

The gravel of the courtyard crunched under Severus' boots. Around him in the wide expanse was the royal court, all of them. The Queen's carriage was waiting, the woman probably already inside. The five Kingsguard still in the capital were mounted and on their horses. The others of the small council were also ready, Lord Varys and Lord Baelish on horses of their own whilst the Grand Maestor was hobbling into a litter. The King was standing beside his own litter, obviously intending to be carried somewhere in the city. "Ah, Thane Severus. Good of you to join us." He said, a malicious smirk pasted onto his face. "You'll be joining us to a little trip to the Great Sept of Baelor. To see justice served to the traitor."

Clearly he was meaning Lord Eddard. "Of course, your grace. But isn't a Westerosi affair? I have no place in a trial."

Joffrey's smirk didn't falter and he glanced across the courtyard to the girl Severus had seen in the throne room as she pulled herself onto a horse, flanked by two Lannister men at arms, hunger in his eyes. "Your dealings with the traitor still cast doubt on your loyalty. This will be a reminder of what happens to those who think to cross their king." The boy king declared. "Your horse has been prepared, a fine animal I must say." He added with a hint of a threat in his voice before he entered the litter and four men in Lannister armour hoisted it off of the ground.

Looking around Severus soon saw his horse, held in place by a page by the small council. Walking over and taking his horses reigns he quickly mounted his heavy set cross-breed. "Thane Severus, a shame you'll have to witness this." Varys spoke to him, bringing his own horse alongside the Colovian's.

"The king gets what he wants." Severus muttered. "Where is Lord Eddard?"

"Lord Stark has already been taken to the Septry." Varys informed him. "He was moved in the small hours of the morning, to avoid the angry locals."

A small horn blast from a page set the procession off, the Kings litter leading the court with the Kingsguard riding alongside. "Is this to be a trial or an execution?"

"The King shall decide Lord Eddard's fate." Varys answered and the two kicked their horses to a trot, lord Baelish having already ridden off.

...

An hour or so later Severus was stood along with the others of the royal court on a rock outside an admittedly impressive religious building. The King, Queen mother and Lord Stark's daughter were on the highest point of the rock, with Lord Baelish and one of the Kingsguard just below them. Severus himself was stood with Lord Varys, the Grand Maestor and a rather fat man in religious garb who was apparently the High Septon, their religious head.

Bells were ringing in the Sept of Baelor behind them and a crowd was beginning to form in the large plaza below them. "You're the foreigner?" The High Septon asked him, looking the Colovian up and down.

Severus was still wearing his armour, a force of habit for many living in Skyrim and as such it was designed both for practical use and comfort. Plus it made him easy to stand out. "Thane Severus Semponius." He nodded to the Septon.

"Thane Severus keeps to his own gods, your holiness." Varys broke into the conversation. "The Nine Divines if I recall correctly."

"The Seven are the only true gods." The High Septon scoffed. "But we allow the Northerners to worship the Old Gods, I'm sure they'll welcome their traitor when he goes to the Wall."

Severus raised a brow as the fat priest seemed sure of the verdict already but kept quiet as the doors to the cities magistrate building opened and the crowd instantly went into a frenzy. It soon became apparent what the cause was, as Lord Eddard was half dragged out of the building and towards the rock by two Goldcloaks.

Lord Eddard was dragged up the steps carved in the black rock and left standing at the front of it, the two Goldcloaks who escorted him taking several steps back. The Northern lord swayed slightly on his feet, heavily favouring one leg over the other, but kept standing. "I am Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and hand of the King." He declared, his voice unsteady.

Everyone had gone silent after he began and the usually composed Lord glanced at his daughter for a moment, receiving a reassuring nod from the young redhead. "I come before you to confess my treason." He continued. "In the sights of gods and men. I betrayed the faith of my King and the trust of my friend, Robert. I swore to protect and defend his children. But before his blood was cold I plotted to murder his son and seize the throne for myself."

The crowd erupted into another short frenzy. Shouts of "Traitor!" filling the air and a few of them threw whatever they could find at Stark, a rotten apple hitting him in the head, causing him to recoil before the King's chief bodyguard, Sandor Clegane steadied him.

Eddard waited for a few moments, still steadying himself. "Let the High Septon and Baelor the Blessed bear witness to what I say. Joffrey Baratheon is the one true heir to the Iron Throne." Severus glanced up at Joffrey when Eddard said this, and saw a gleeful smile on the boy kings face. "By the grace of all the gods." _Not mine_ , Severus thought. "Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."

Another round of "Traitor!" from the crowd, clearly wanting blood.

"As we sin." The Grand Maestor wheezed as he hobbled forward. "So do we suffer. This man has confessed his crimes, in sight of gods and men. The gods are just." He gestured upwards to the heavens of Mundus. "But beloved Baelor taught us they can also be merciful." He slowly turned to look at the King. "What will be done with this traitor, you grace?"

The crowd called for blood but the King quietened then with a raised hand. "My mother wishes me to let Lord Eddard to join the Nightswatch. Stripped of all titles and powers he would serve the realm in permanent exile. And my lady Sansa, has begged mercy for her father." He looked to Eddards daughter, his voice softening slightly for a moment before he looked back to the vast crowd. "But they've the soft hearts of women!" Severus inwardly scoffed, women do not have soft hearts, far from it. "So long as I am your King, treason shall never go unpunished!" Beside him, Severus could see Lord Varys tense. "Ser Illyn!" The King called to the royal executioner waiting beneath him. "Bring me his head!"

The crowd erupted once again and those gathered by the King quickly lost all composure, Sansa Stark openly begging and being held back by one of the Kingsguard while the Queen mother was clearly trying to order the King to rescind the order. Beside him, Varys, the Grand Maestor and the High Septon all stood with mouths agape, though Varys quickly recovered and rushed over to the King.

Severus meanwhile stood, watching. He thought back to the fateful day at Helgen, the day Alduin had raised the peaceful village and allowed Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak to escape. It was a bitter memory though, that same bringer of the end times had saved him, dropping from the sky as the headsman lifted that hideous axe. It was strange to him, that he was saved from execution by the very thing that sort to destroy him, and that at the same time had Alduin not saved them then the Civil War would've ended, only for the world to most surely meet its own end. He let out a deep breath, pushing the memory of blood, fire and hate from his mind, it had woken him enough from his slumber in the weeks following it for it to hold sway over him now.

"Stop this at one!" The High Septon beside him bellowed, also rushing to the King. "This would defile sacred ground!"

As the small council, besides lord Baelish whom Severus noticed was if anything stifling a laugh, tried to convince the King two of the Kingsguard came forward and grabbed Eddard, forcing him to his knees. Just to the side Ser Illyn drew a massive greatsword and hefted it, preparing to do the deed.

Soon though only Sansa was trying to stop it, the rest of the small council and the High Septon resigned to what was about to happen, drawing a final look from her father before he looked to the ground, presenting his neck. Ser Illyn lowered the weapon to the ground for a moment, judging the swing. Satisfied the royal executioner lifted it and brought it down on the Northman's neck, Lord Eddard's life ending in an instant.

And so it was done.

* * *

 **Eadric Haraldsson - Hircine  
Skjor - Hircine  
Mystery person - Unknown  
Delvin Mallory - Nocturnal  
Unknown Champion - Meridia**

* * *

 **16 done. And Eddard is dead. Well what did you expect from Sean Bean?  
With all seriousness though I always felt that Eddard's death is one of the most important events in the series. And as for Severus' reaction (or lack thereof) he's an outsider who doesn't know much about either the King, Eddard or have any idea what so ever about the Queen and her interests, so for him to do something about it I think would be out of his character.  
Anyway onto a lighter subject. Next chapter is in the works, expect it soon.  
And as always, every review welcome! Even negative ones because they are incredibly useful.**


	17. A visit, a call, and the Dov

**Once again sorry for the wait with this one, proved tougher to write than I thought but I think the ending was worth it.  
Hope you enjoy it**

* * *

 _The Red Keep, the Crownlands, Westeros_

The afternoon of the execution was a tense one to say the least. Many of the court were on edge, a few seething at what had happened. Only the King seemed to be in a good mood and Stark's daughter was clearly depressed and terrified, though she made a decent effort to hide it.

To compound the mood in the castle a bard had been dragged in after being arrested for playing a song. And he had just completed a recital of it.

On the Iron Throne Joffrey clapped with an evil smirk on his face, prompting the local nobles and sycophants to clap along with him. Though Severus, who was towards the back of the hall, by one of the large columns that held up the ceiling, just grimaced.

"Very amusing." The young king sneered. "Isn't it a funny song?" He grinned and leant back against the moulded swords. "Thank you for your rendition. I imagine it was even better received at that tavern?"

The bard timidly stood up from his seated position. "So sorry your grace. I'll never sing it again, I swear."

"Tell me..." Joffrey's grin grew even more. "Which do you favour? Your fingers or your tongue?"

"y-your grace?"

"Your fingers, or your tongue?" Joffrey repeated. "If you got to keep one, which would it be?" The bard didn't answer. "Or I could just cut your throat."

As the bard desperately tried to save himself a page walked up to Severus and half whispered to him to not disturb the other end of the hall. "Thane Severus. There's someone at the gates for you, by the name of Neloth."

Glancing aside at the King and bard for a moment Severus nodded to the page and made for the main doors of the hall. "A-a man needs hands, your grace." He heard the bard plead as he left the great hall.

Coming straight to the courtyard he quickly saw Neloth at the gates, held at bay by two Goldcloaks and his hood up to cover his ears. "It's all right. He's with me." Severus called out to the Goldcloaks.

"Ah Severus. I was expecting better hospitality when I'm invited to the Red Keep." Neloth remarked.

The Goldcloaks glared at Neloth before parting their spears to let him past, though they really couldn't have done anything to stop a Mage Lord enter even if they tried. "Yes, Thane."

"So..." Neloth said drily as he walked over the. "Where is this King whose caused such a stir in his first week?"

Severus chuckled and turned to walk back into the royal castle, gesturing the ancient Dark Elf to follow him. "Tormenting a local bard."

"Oh excellent. I think I'm going to like him already."

Severus raised a brow at Neloth as the two entered the main hall again, finding the bard being held down by two of the Kingsguard and Ser Ilyn cutting the poor man's tongue out. "You sure about that?" To the Dark Elf simply shrugged.

Seeing the King leaving the hall, followed by four of the Kinsguard and the Stark girl, Severus walked after him, though keeping a slight distance.

When the King stopped at a small balcony it soon became apparent what the little shit was doing. Up on the wall opposite the balcony were spikes decorated with the heads of the slaughtered Stark Household. "Macabre sense of humour." Neloth remarked.

Sansa quickly spotted them and recoiled, trying to leave but stopped by one of the Kingsguard. "No! Please no!" She half screamed.

"This one's your father." Joffrey pointed at Eddard's head. "This one here." He looked back to Sansa. "Look at it and see what happens to traitors." He sneered before spotting Severus and Neloth. His grin faltering slightly he looked between the mounted heads and Sansa. "Perhaps I'll bring you back. Make you look at them again. And again." He smirked. "Dog. Take lady Sansa back to her chambers." He instructed to Clegane.

"Come here, girl." The hulking man ordered, a very slight softness in his voice as he took the Stark, glancing back over his shoulder at Severus as he went.

Clearly far from satisfied Joffrey walked to Severus and Neloth. "Thane Severus. I hope you have a reason for this interruption?"

"You asked for an Elf, your grace." Severus bowed his head slightly. "I present Neloth, Mage Lord of the Great House Telvanni."

Neloth smiled smugly as his titles were recited and pulled down his hood, revealing his elongated ears and giving the king a clear view of his angular face and grey skin.

The boy King recoiled at the sight but quickly his shocked expression turned back into his usual grin. "Ha, it's true then. There really are Elves?"

"Astute observation." Neloth remarked sarcastically.

Joffrey's grin widened. "Do you know what this means?" He laughed slightly. "This means it's all true! Your Legion, the wars it fought." He began pacing, smiling like a madman. "Your Legion. Thane Severus Semponius, will become the foundations for the greatest army Westeros has ever seen!"

"It will, your grace?"

"Yes!" Joffrey exclaimed. "And it will be an army loyal to me, and no one else." He looked giddy, as if he'd been given a gift he'd always craved. "Summon men of the Legion. I have a lot to discuss with them. For now..." He looked back to Neloth, mad glee in his eyes. "Tell me, Mage Lord, how powerful is House Telvanni?"

Severus instantly face palmed at the question, earning raised brows from the Kingsguard and a quizzical look from Joffrey before the thing Severus had anticipated began.

"Ah, the Great House Telvanni..." Neloth began, leading to a truly gruelling ramble about the history and power of his own branch of the Great House, about how he was once able to con the Nerevarine, the Dunmer hero of legend, into going through great trials for a reward of ten gold among the tales.

Severus quickly excused himself, having heard the ramble once before and not wanting to go through the realm of oblivion again. Leaving the King and Kingsguard for the moment enraptured in the tales of Morrowind and Vvardenfell.

* * *

 _Castle Black, the North, Westeros_

Eadric pulled his mail shirt over his head. He hadn't been wearing it for most of his time at the Watch's headquarters but now was different. After the attack of the undead it had been decided. The men of the Watch were not going to simply lay back and wait for their brethren to come south and assault the Wall. No, they were going to ride out, find out what was going on and stop it, by any means necessary. Eadric was going with them, Mormont had asked him to come and he frankly would've come even if they'd told him to stay at the glorified manor.

Buckling his belt and sword sheath around his waist he looked out the window, a light snow flurry as usual. Smiling as the cold brushed up against his face he picked up the Skyforge Steel axe resting against the wall and left his small chambers. He wouldn't see them or that warm bed for months, maybe longer.

"Not taking the lute?" A voice he recognised asked him from beside the giant Nord.

Looking to the source of the voice, Eadric saw Sam Guevenne standing there, dressed in the black of the Watch and grinning like a madman. "Of all the places on this continent you could've gone to, you chose this shithole?" The human form of the Daedric Prince of excess laughed. "Though then again, must remind you of home I guess."

"What are you doing here Sanguine?" Eadric asked, walking past Sam and walking down the steps to the bustling courtyard, watchman busying themselves getting ready for the expedition.

Sanguine followed the Nord. "Tsk tsk, that's no way to treat old uncle Sanguine when he drops by, now is it?"

Eadric sighed. "Why are you here, Sanguine?" He asked again.

Sam merely chuckled. "My beloved brother wanted me to check up on his champions. And you're the easier to track down of the two of you."

"He could've just summoned me to the Hunting Grounds again."

"Yes, he could've." Sanguine nodded slowly as the two walked to a more secluded area of the castle. "But he didn't. That and he's rather busy Meridia these days."

Eadric stopped in his walk and slowly turned to look at the illusionary form of the Daedric Prince. "Meridia? What's Hircine doing with her?"

"Coming up with ideas on what to do about this army of the undead these backwaters have to the far north I should think." Sanguine shrugged. "Thick as your lot are at least the Atmorans had the good sense to leave Atmora when the Frozen Horde reared its ugly and boring head."

"Falmer should have been as clever."

Sanguine chuckled. "The Snow Elves were always too austere for my tastes, too obsessed with my cousin." The human form of the prince crossed his arms and leant back against the wall of the tower they were talking by. "Got some good news for you."

Eadric raised a brow. "What?"

"Congratulations are in order." Sanguine's grin returned. "I paid a visit to Jorvaskrr to make sure your Harbinger knows what's going on. And while I was there, there were two new arrivals."

Eadric looked him straight in the eyes. "You mean…"

"Twins." Sanguine laughed. "Boy and girl." He stepped forward and clasped Eadric by the shoulders. "Believe me I went through oblivion itself telling your wife what you've been doing. And she is _not_ happy, let me tell you."

Eadric didn't quite know how to process the feelings. He was a father, something he'd been preparing for years now. But, by Talos he was stupid. Stuck here until whatever needs to be done is done and he can't see them. "… Njada is going to kill me."

Sanguine laughed again and backed up. "Probably. But I'd focus more on the undead than that right now." He raised his right hand. "Good luck." He snapped his fingers and in an instant a portal appeared and disappeared around him, taking him back to Oblivion.

Staring at the space where Sanguine had once been for several seconds Eadric fell against the side of the wall, groaning to himself. Rolling a hand over his face he stood himself back up and decided to push the dread of returning aside for now, instead focusing on what was beyond the Wall. Sighing heavily he walked out from beneath the tower and towards the growing number of watchman and ultimately, the Great Ranging.

* * *

 _Dragonsreach, Whiterun, Skyrim_

Hrongar marched through the main hall of the ancient castle, glancing at the mounted skull of Numinex for a moment before ascending the stairs to war room.

"Balgruuf, listen…" He heard the voice of Korir, former Jarl of Winterhold and now Thane of Greymoor following the second Great War. "The Nine Holds would support. You only have to make the claim and it would be yours." _Great, more of this_ Hrongar thought to himself as he crested the stairs.

"Did I not tell you clearly the last time, Korir? Enough." Hrongar's brother sighed at the former Jarl. "I'll not have Skyrim tear itself apart again. I am _not_ Ulfric."

Korir clenched his fist. "You're the rightful High King!" he declared, not paying heed to Hrongar's presence.

"Enough!" Balgruuf snapped. "You will not bring this up again." The greying Jarl ordered.

Korir looked to try continuing but instead breathed out and looked to Hrongar, who he'd just noticed. "Hrongar. Your brother is being as stubborn as always."

Hrongar glared at Korir as he approached Balgruuf. "He's your Jarl _Thane_."

"What is it Hrongar?" Balgruuf asked, stopping the two before the argument escalated.

"One of our scouts has just returned from Rorikstead." The larger Nord began. "Thousands of the Dukes men are marching straight to Solitude." He gestured to the map of Skyrim on the large table in the centre of the room. "They carry the banners of General Marcellus."

"Marcellus?" Korir raised a brow. "What's the Sword of Kvatch doing marching to Elisif?"

Hrongar shrugged. "The scout didn't get a chance to ask him."

Korir sighed at Hrongar's sarcasm. "I'll muster my riders and try to catch up with Marcellus before he leaves Whiterun Hold."

"No." Balgruuf ordered. "The Duke's been agitating for independence since the war ended. It'll give Erikur ammunition if an old Stormcloak meets with his best general." The Jarl of Whiterun leant against the table, studying the map of Skyrim. "Hrongar, did the scouts say if they saw the banners of the duke as well? Or just Marcellus?"

"The scout only mentioned Flavius Marcellus' banners."

Balgruuf stood straight, stroking his beard. "Keep the hold warriors on alert, I don't want to be caught off guard by anything the Colovian is planning."

"Aye, my Jarl." Hrongar placed his fist on his chest and began to leave when they all heard someone run up the stairs from the main hall.

"Jarl Balgruuf!" A courier called out as he crested the stairs and briskly walked to the Jarl of Whiterun. "From Chief Larak." He held out a crumpled note.

Stopping to see what happens Hrongar crossed his arms as his brother took the note and began to read. "What do the Orcs wants?"

Balgruuf didn't respond as he read carefully. "Korir…" He crumpled the note and walked to the roaring fire, throwing it in, the paper burning quickly. "Call your warriors to assemble here. And take your horsemen and ride straight for Rorikstead."

Korir looked at the fire as the last of the paper disappeared. "What is it Balgruuf?"

"Larak is coming here with all his warriors. So are the other Strongholds."

"What?!" Both Korir and Hrongar cried out at once.

"Why?" Korir asked alone.

Balgruuf looked back at the map and picked up one of the pieces that would normally represent an army, rolling it in his hand. "That's what you're going to find out."

* * *

 _A great red waste. That was all he could see for leagues in every direction. He was standing on top of a great mountain, overlooking the bleak landscape. The moon was high and cast a grey light across the sands._

 _Below him there was fire, torches held by men and women. All of them standing around a construct of wood, bearing a man shrouded in a rug. Curiously and tentatively he made his way down to them, finding his feet did not disturb the ground as they fell._

 _As he approached he could make out the people around the construct better. Most were men and women in rugged clothing and bearing tan skin and dark hair. Two though, did not. One was a man, tall and grey and clothed in a simple shirt. The other was a woman, with hair as silver as the moon and skin pale, as though she was of the far north._

 _Closer he came and he realised none could see him, for none seemed to notice him as he walked through their line of sight. Soon he was among them, studying each as they looked towards the woman, who was conversing with the man._

 _He watched as she went forward and gently kissed the man on the cheek and smiled at him, the man looking at her with longing in his eyes. Turning and facing those gathered around the two, the woman walked to be in front of the construct, a great pyre. "You will be my Khalassar. I see the faces of slaves. I free you! Take off your collars; go if you wish, no one will stop you. But if you stay it will be as brothers and sisters, as husbands and wives!" The woman spoke out aloud, though she sounded faint to him, as if she was not really there._

 _As she spoke some of those gathered left, some alone, some in small groups. The woman did not seem to care though, instead looking at an old crone, bound and forced to kneel in front of her. "Ser Jorah, bind this to the pyre." The man hesitated and she looked at him, expression blank. "You swore to obey me" The man bowed his head and came forward to the crone, lifting her with the help of another who had stayed and leading her to the great pyre. "I am Daenarys Stormborn, of House Targeryan! Of the blood of Old Valyria! I am the Dragon's daughter! And I swear to you that those who would harm you will die screaming!"_

" _You will not hear me scream." The old crown called to her from the pyre behind him._

" _I will." The woman asserted. "But it is not your screams I want, only your life." She held out her hand and one of those gathered handed her a lit torch, the man coming up alongside her again. Moving forward the woman lit the beginnings of the pyre, a ring of branches and sticks._

 _As the flames crawled along the ring they spread into an inner ring and finally lit the central pyre, the crone also catching fire. He could hear her chant something; he couldn't place the language of the words. Soon though it turned to screaming, she had lied._

 _With a last look at the man beside her, the woman began slowly stepping forward, her light dress flowing in the draft caused by the fire greedily devouring the air around them all. She passed the first ring, and then the second, and finally she passed into the great pyre, silent and aflame._

 _At once the ground began to tremble and a harsh snap of the wind threw the flames up high into the sky. Those around the pyre stumbled and a few fell, but the man remained standing, eyes fixed on the fires. As the flames rose ever higher a great booming voice rung out across the waste. "_ _ **DOV! SOS! YOL!**_ _"_

…

At once Severus shot up in his bed, breathing heavily and sweating. He was just there, he was sure he had just been there. He had seen the woman walk into the pyre, the flames grow… and the words.

Gradually his heart slowed and then he felt it, the rumbling. Standing he rushed to the window in his chambers and pushed the curtain aside, looking out across the bay. The moon was high but gradually the rumbling grew.

" _ **DOV! SOS! YOL!**_ _" The words blasted through the sky and in an instant he knew._

" _Dragons..." He heard the castle immediately bustle with activity. "Blood..." Lights began flickering on in the city below him. "Fire..."_

 _New Dragons had entered the world, in fire and blood._

* * *

 **Eadric Haraldsson - Hircine  
Skjor - Hircine  
Mystery person - Unknown  
Delvin Mallory - Nocturnal  
Unknown Champion - Meridia**

* * *

 **Oooh boy. Here we go.  
Not entirely convinced with this chapter myself but I figured this one has been delayed long enough. So as usual feel free to leave a review. Will probably end up rewriting this at some point but for now we'll move on.**

 **And now onto what I think of Season 6 so far... I'll just say this, as far as this fic and the White Walkers are concerned, Season 6 doesn't exist.**


	18. A shout, a Dov and the dragon's heir

**So... Been a long time hasn't it?  
I think after a delay like this... best you read it first while I do talky stuff below.  
(spelling mistake pointed out fixed)**

* * *

 _The Haunted Forest, North of the Wall, Westeros_

Eadric dragged the Elk corpse behind him as he trudged into the camp the Watchmen had set up on their way north. The moons were at their height and few clouds obscured the Magna Ge as they let Aetherius pour into the mortal plane.

Passing through the camp he drew many looks from groups of Watchmen huddled around small fires, most looking at the large beast with surprise. A few offered congratulations at either bringing the animal down or finding the corpse though most were just content to watch. Nodding slightly to the few who did address him, Eadric made for a fire on the far end of the camp, one surrounded by the Watchmen he knew best of those who had come North of the Wall.

"Seven hells Haraldsson." Grenn exclaimed when he saw the massive Nord dragging the equally massive Elk over the snow towards them. "How'd you bring that down?" The others looked in Eadric's direction. Jon studied the animal from his position next to Sam, who was more concerned with warming his hands than anything else. While Rast was wrapped in his furs, shivering despite the fire.

The final Watchman sat around the fire was Grenn's partner in leading one of the supply sleds, an older Ranger by the name of Eddison Tollet, though he had told everyone to just call him 'Edd'. "You didn't scare it to death did you? You don't have a bow."

Eadric dumped the beast next to the fire and shrugged. "I didn't. Found it in the forest, wolf got it by the looks of it." He gestured to the neck, which had been savaged by a wolf of clear size. Though he kept quiet about the fact that he was the wolf in question.

Jon leaned forward and looked at the neck. "Aye. Direwolf maybe. Bigger than Ghost though." He said while he patted Ghost, who was busy sitting by his feet and staring with clear intent at the animal carcass.

"It'll just come back for its kill." Rast muttered from underneath the layers of fur.

"We can cope with one wolf." Eadric asserted as he knelt down and drew his saex. "Three hundred of us, wolves don't like odds like that." He thrust the knife and began the skin the dead animal, beginning with the stomach so he could get to the intestines.

As the Nord got to work, Edd stood up and nudged Grenn. "Well come on, let's get the cauldron and get snow in it."

Grenn quickly understood and got up to help. Though Sam looked confused before Jon quickly informed the overweight reachman. "Making a stew, need water for that." He too stood up. "I'll get the vegetables."

As Eadric pulled out the guts and dumped them on the snow the ground began to rumble. Snow fell from the trees that surrounded them, shook loose by the vibrations. A few fires crumbled and spread as all around the camp men and animals alike went on alert.

The rumble grew until eventually the words came blasting out of the sky. " ** _DOV! SOS! YOL!_** "

Eadric instantly stopped skinning the beast and grabbed his axe, searching the sky frantically. "Come on you bastard." He growled as he waited.

Those around him had also drawn their swords, Sam and Jon joining the Nord in looking around the night sky. "What was that?!" Grenn exclaimed.

"Dragon." Eadric said through gritted teeth. Something didn't feel right, he couldn't hear the tell-tale sound of wings flapping, or the roars the Dov often released as they flew.

"Bah, no such thing as Dragons." Rast sneered, though still looking around for anything that may come.

" _Quiet_." The Nord growled at the rapist. The rest all heeded the command and throughout the rest of the camp the Watchmen where also quiet, expecting an attack at any moment. Silence reigned for several minutes, no man daring to make a sound or even move their feet lest the snow muffle anything.

It was some time before Edd broke the silence. "I don't hear anything."

"Stay alert." Eadric instructed before he began to trudge off.

"Where are you going?" Sam asked the Nord.

"To find Mormont."

…

Eadric found Mormont at the center of the camp along with the most experienced Watchmen in the Great Ranging. He had his sword drawn along with the others though instead of being on high alert, was sat on a log, resting the sword tip against the ground while his hands lay on the pommel. "Haraldsson." He uttered as the giant of a Nord approached. "Anything on the outskirts?"

The shook his head. "Nothing. And we both know that wasn't anything the Wildlings can do." A few of the other Rangers began to gather round, clearly listening. "Nor is it the Walkers."

Mormont stared at him for a moment and let out a sigh. "Well you seem to have a good idea. What was it that made those sounds?"

"A dragon." Eadric answered plainly.

Some of the Rangers scoffed, a few looked back up at the sky worried, while most just watched the Lord Commander. "I see. How do you know?"

"The Words. Dovahzul. Tongue of the dragons."

"The dragons are all dead." A Ranger asserted. "And even if they weren't, I never heard of a dragon talking."

Mormont held up his hand to silence the black brother and motioned for Eadric to continue. "Maybe not the same dragons as yours, or maybe they are. But in Skyrim, dragons talk." He pointed at the sky with his axe. "Dov. Sos. Yol. That's what they were. Dragons. Blood. Fire."

"What could it mean?" A steward from among the ever enlarging crowd asked.

"I don't know." Eadric replied after a short pause. "But if it wanted to attack us, it would've done so already."

Again many looked up at the sky. Though as they did, they all saw it. Roaring across the sky, was a trail of blood red as a comet flew past the mortal plane. "Gods." A Ranger muttered.

Mormont slowly stood. "Right. Enough wasting time. Double the sentries and always have a weapon ready. We go to Craster's tomorrow." He ordered those assembled, who after a little extra time looking at the red trail complied. "Haraldsson." The Old Bear walked towards the Nord and lowered his voice. "If a dragon does come… Can you kill it?"

Eadric considered for a while, looking at his axe and those around him before replying. "Maybe. But not without losses."

Jeor nodded grimly for a moment. "Then so be it."

* * *

 _The Red keep, The Crownlands, Westeros_

Severus hadn't slept after being awoken that night, his mind was too focused on the words. "Dragons. Blood. Fire." He repeated to himself as he sat on his bed, the morning sun bathing his room in radiant light, not that he cared much at the moment. When the words were blasted throughout the sky he knew in an instant what it meant, for it could mean little else. New Dragons had been born. What's more he could feel it, the Dragonblood within him had flared just a few hours before and his skin was hot to the touch.

But how could new Dragons be born? They weren't creatures that could breed, they were fragments of Akatosh, his own offspring. Alduin may have been the first and Paarthurnax the second, but all Dov were of Akatosh. So how could these dragons have been born? Were there eggs left by the Aedra, or something else, something different?

His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp knock at the door a split second before it opened and Dinontus strode in, also looking like he had not slept. "You're awake. Good." The Breton was carrying a bottle of wine, something Severus was grateful for when he spotted it.

"You heard it too?" The Colovian asked as he pointed to the small cupboard that held a few tankards.

Guilliman marched over to the cupboard and retrieved the tankards, quickly making his way to the table and pouring both of them a drink. "Aye. The whole city heard it." He held out one to Severus, who greedily took it. "You look awful."

Severus downed the contents in one long gulp and held out the tankard for refilling, which Dinontus did. "My blood's been boiling for hours. Feel like I'm in the middle of the Alik'r." He took another gulp of the wine, though not as much this time around.

"I'm going to guess it's not a fever." Dinontus chuckled slightly to himself and sipped his wine. "What did it mean?"

"Dragons. Blood. Fire."

"I see... I think its best we keep that to ourselves. Too close to the words of the former royal house." Guilliman warned. "House Targaryen's words were "Fire and Blood". If the King finds out a _dragon_ called out something similar…"

"He'll take it as a threat."

"Exactly."

Severus gulped down the last of the wine, though didn't hold out for another refill. "Did any of the Targaryen's survive?"

Dinontus raised an eyebrow. "Two, a boy and a girl. Why?"

"I think I saw the girl." Severus breathed.

"What?"

The Colovian sighed and he let himself fall backwards onto the sweat soaked bed. "Before the shouts I was… felt like I was in a wide desert. There were people there. A girl, white haired and a man, he looked Westerosi. The rest were all olive skinned, like the Nibbenese." He explained, with Dinontus leaning forward. "They put three stones on a pyre, along with a woman, I don't know why. When they set it ablaze the girl walked into it and the flames flew up." He sighed and held a hand to his forehead, still burning hot. "And then I heard it, the shouts, the people there seemed to hear it as well."

"Anything after that?"

"That's when I woke up."

Dinontus slowly nodded and finished his own wine. "It could just be a dream… I _hope_ it's just a dream."

"Agreed." Severus muttered as he sat up again. "How's the court reacting to the shouts?"

"As well as you'd expect. Most are taking it as a sign from their gods or something similar." Dinotnus couldn't help but chuckle slightly. "The Goldcloaks have had to put down a riot in Fleabottom and Joffrey ordered the lower gates closed to keep out the "common rabble" as he put it."

Severus sighed. "Well. It could be worse. Neloth could tell him what the words meant." He cursed and pushed himself off from the bed, moving over to his fresh tunic and armour.

Dinontus nodded in agreement and raised a brow. "You're not really going to wear your armour in your state are you?"

The Colovian pulled the tunic over his head and considered for a moment. "Considering what happened to Lord Stark, yes." He answered plainly as he began dressing in the ebony scale mail.

Guilliman chuckled and stood up, walking to the door. "I'll see you in the Great Hall when you're done. Must show ourselves as taking part at court after all." He nodded slightly to Severus and left the room.

[[ line ]]

 _The Red Waste_

Daenerys Stormborn, last the Targeryans and rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms sighed as she held out the raw piece of horse meat to the young Dragon on her shoulder. It had been naught but a few days since their hatching and the appearance of the comet above them. Her people called it _Shierak qiya_ , the Bleeding Star. The old among them muttered that it omened ill but it had appeared on the night of the burning of Khal Drogo and the awakening of her dragons. _It is a herald of my coming_ , she repeated to herself in her mind, she was close too convincing herself.

As Drogon again shunned the meat her handmaiden Doreah asked. "What did your brother say about them Khaleesi?"

Dany gave up on the meat and looked forward. "He said they ate meat."

"But he didn't tell you what kind of meat?"

"My brother didn't know anything about dragons." Dany held out her hand for Drogon, who jumped into it. "My brother didn't know anything." She signaled for the horse beside her too slow and she opened the door on Drogon's wicker cage, letting him move in himself before closing it.

Then at the head of the column she heard a horse whine and then fall. Quickly looking over her mood sank instantly and she ran over. It was her horse. As she knelt beside the collapsed beast she felt like tears would form if she had the water to spare. She looked at Ser Jorah, who was knelt beside her and had been the first to the horse. The northman knight slowly shook his head, a sympathetic expression on his rough face.

Resigning herself to the fate of the horse she gave it one last look in the face. "She was Drogo's first gift to me."

"I remember." Jorah comforted her, he was always there for her.

"I promised to protect them. I promised them their enemies would die screaming. How do I make starvation scream?"

"A trick I never learned, I'm afraid." Jorah stated with a slight hint of humour, though it wasn't much.

Dany looked out ahead of the small rabble she called a Khalasar. "Does it ever end?" She asked the knight, hopeful that the answer might be a good one.

"This is further east than I've ever been. But yes, Khaleesi, everything ends, even the Red Waste."

"And you're sure there's no other way?"

"If we go south to the land of the Lazarheen, the Lamb Men will kill us and take your dragons." Jorah explained. "If we go west to the Dothraki Sea, the first Khalasar we meet will kill us and take your dragons."

"No one will take my dragons." Dany asserted.

Jorah remained silent for a moment. "They're too weak to fight. As are your people. _You_ must be their strength."

Dany looked at him and a ghost of a smile crossed her face. "As you are mine." She saw him return a similar gesture, he was a true friend. Before Dany could think about what to do next a sound reverberated across the sky, like nothing she had ever heard. "What was that?"

Jorah looked up at the sky. "I don't know, Khaleesi."

Again the sound came. It sounded a roar, almost like that of a lion or bear. "Khaleesi!" Rakaro called as marched over with the other Bloodriders. He had his arakh out and was surveying the sky. "There!" He called in the common tongue, one of the few words he knew.

Looking to where he pointed, Dany saw what seemed to be a great bird flying towards them. At least she thought it was a bird, what other creature could it be but a bird? Another roar and it quickly became clear it was coming from whatever it was, and it was getting closer by the second. By now all of her Khalasar were watching it, her warriors on alert.

"That's not a bird, Khaleesi." Jorah stated with a worried tone. "It's…"

"Zhavorsa!" Aggo yelled out. _Dragon._ But how? There were no dragons before Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion. The last had died in the reign of Aegon III, her ancestor.

" ** _DOV! SOS! YOL!_** " Blasted across the wastes, emanating from the dragon flying towards them. They were the same words that they had all heard that night. Though after the morning and the realisation of Dany's survival and the hatching of dragons, it had been assumed it just happened when dragons came into the world.

From their wicker baskets her dragons began screeching and trying to get out. Stunned by the words and approaching adult, she did not move, nor did any others of the Khalasar.

Soon the dragon was close and once it flew over the ragged company, showing tattered wings and a small stature compared to the stories she had heard of Balerian the Black Dread, of Vhagar and of Caraxes the Red Queen. Then it came around and landed, throwing up dust and sand as it did so.

Dany's Bloodriders, Jorah and any of her people who had a weapon rushed to the front of the caravan and to stand between her and it, weapons raised.

As the dust cloud died down the dragon slowly raised its head. It was scarred and covered in horns, several broken and seemed to miss several of its teeth, though what remained still bore a terrifying visage. Slowly looking around the ragged band of men and women in front of it, a low rumbling, almost like a man chuckling, came forth from it. Dany stared at it as the dragon seemed to drink in the sight before it. " ** _Drem yol lok,_** **greeting** ** _joor_** **. I am Paarthurnax.** "

As one the Khalasar was taken aback, a dragon just spoke to them. "You… Can talk?" Dany asked the dragon who called himself Paarthurnax.

Again the low rumbling of a chuckle escaped the dragon. " **Yes. I can** ** _Tinvaak_** **… Converse.** " Paarthurnax approached, walking on the arms in his wings and his hind legs. He stopped closer to Rakaro, Aggo and Jorah, all of whom looked at him warily, their weapons still raised.

"Lower your weapons." Dany ordered, she knew they little chance against Paarthurnax. "Why are you here?"

" **Ah yes.** " The clearly ancient but relatively small dragon began. " **Some nights ago I felt something I had not felt for centuries… Where are they?** "

"Where are what?" Jorah demanded.

Paarthurnax lowered his head, looking directly at the knight. " **That night I felt the** ** _kiin,_** **Birth, of my kind. Where are they?** "

"Doreah." Dany looked at her handmaiden, signalling her to gather her children.

"Yes khaleesi." The lysene bowed her head and went off to get the horse that carried their baskets. When she returned they resumed their protests against the baskets.

Without a word to any of the Khalasar, Paarthurnax pushed through those in front of him to get to the baskets. " **Open them.** " With another nod from Dany, Doreah complied and quickly let out Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion. All three of them glided out, using their small wings to fall softly to the ground, not yet able to fly on their own. When they did they stared at Paarthurnax and he stared at them. " **Such little things…** " The ancient looking dragon lowered its head to get a better look at them. " ** _Tinvaak mal gein_**." It spoke to them in a language Dany could not understand and her dragons cocked their heads. " **Hmm. No… Not yet it seems**." The low rumble of a chuckle escaped the beast again. " **Such a** ** _kiin_** **has not occurred in many a year, and many more since I came here to witness it.** " It looked at Daenerys. " **I will** ** _wundun_** **, travel with you for a time. If you permit.** "

Dany was taken aback, it wanted to accompany them! She glanced at Ser Jorah who looked shocked along with her Dothraki. "I-I… We would be honoured to have a dragon come with us." She stammered at Paarthurnax.

" ** _Dii Kogaan._** " Paarthurnax bowed his large scarred head. " **The honour is mine,** ** _monah do dovah_** **.** "

Daenerys couldn't help but smile and felt giddy. This couldn't be happening. No Khalasar would dare try and attack them with an adult dragon at their side. "I assure you it is ours. Though as you can see…" She gestured to her ragged caravan. "We are suffering greatly and may not make it out of these wastes."

"We haven't found fresh water for days." Jorah intoned. "And we're relying on our fallen horses." He sadly looked at Dany's freshly horse and shot the last scion of House Targeryan an apologetic look.

" **Hmm…** " Paarthurnax looked up at the sky. " **I may have a solution…** " He pulled his head back on his serpentine neck and a monstrous sound erupted forth, almost sounding like a single word. " ** _STRUN!_** "

Several of her people screamed and Jorah, Rakaro and Aggo drew their weapons again. Paarthrunax looked at the three and then back at the sky, which was slowly beginning to… Dany couldn't quite believe it. The sky above the Red Wastes was beginning to cloud over. Soon the pitter patter of rain drops against scorched earth became audible and thunder rolled across the sky. This dragon… had called a storm to them.

Jorah was the first to get over the shock of what had happened. "Get the skins and tarps out! We can gather the rainwater!" He bellowed and managed to nudge Rkaro and Aggo into quickly helping, the three running along the caravan.

Dany took a step back and nearly slipped in the now slick earth beneath her, though she steadied herself. "How did you do that?" She stared at the dragon who soaking up the weather, almost as if he enjoyed it.

" **Ah…** " Paarthurnax let out a long sigh as the cool water ran down his scales. " **The** ** _Dov_** **can use the** ** _thu'um_** **, voice, to powerful effect. I had to rein this one in, or else there would be lightning coming down on your head.** "

"You did this just by saying words?"

Paarthurnax again let out a rumbling sound. " **Yes. For the** ** _Dov, tinvaak_** **is everything. Even battle among my kind are mere debates. This…** " He pointed with his snout up at the sky. " **This I summoned with the** ** _dovahzul_** **for 'storm',** ** _monah do dovah._** "

Dany didn't try to shield herself from the rain, instead doing as the dragon did and let it flow over her, she never thought rain could be so refreshing. "You say that again. What does it mean?"

" ** _Monah do dovah_** **? It means in your tongue 'mother of dragons'** "

* * *

 **Eadric Haraldsson - Hircine  
** **Skjor - Hircine  
** **Unknown person - Unknown (Big shock I know)  
** **As of yet unknown Champion of Meridia  
** **Delvin Mallory - Nocturnal**

* * *

 **Well I hope you liked it and as always fell free to leave a review concerning what you liked/didn't like/spelling mistakes(hopefully few of those)/give me a well deserved bollocking for a three month delay.**

 **Anyway. Been three months and that's partially due to writers block mixed with several rewrites and also partially due to IRL not treating me very well right now. Not going to try saying when the next one will be because after this... Would you even believe me?  
**

 ***SPOILERS FOR SEASON 6! READ AT OWN RISK* *Also you may not want to read this if you don't want to read me whining about what is overall a pretty good season***

 **And now on to the super late impression I had of Season 6 overall. Was decent I suppose, didn't really like the White Walker stuff amounting to little more than Human Pest Control that got a bit out of hand. The R+L=J well everyone knew that was a thing though I personally prefer a different one of those theories. Dany is finally on her way to Westeros with the most ragtag bunch of misfits the world has ever seen and likely won't even make it far when Tyrion gets his hands on the Bastard Snakes (still miffed they killed Doran. I swear that actor has to be killed in every role he has). The Hound, liked that and he's still badass, nuff said. Jaime and Bron are awesome, nuff said. Jon and Sansa, not overly good battle leaders but seem okay though I for one am dreading the shipping since they're now cousins (Also if Sansa tries to kill Jon I may just give up on the series). Ramsay's death was good though. Rickon should've done the flipping serpantine. And now Kingslanding... Cersei's gone off the deep end and Tommen carried out a Monty Python like death, both amused by that and annoyed that we lost Margaery. Oh and the dragons were f*cking awesome.**


	19. A Tourney, a prayer and the Legion

**And here we are, not several months later this time.  
Also only realised while I was writing this one that the last chapter was released on the one-year anniversary of the fic beginning, so yay for that.  
As always hope you enjoy the read.**

* * *

 _Kingslanding, The Crowlands, Westeros_

"Ah finally. Back in a sensible part of the world." Tyrion exclaimed as his horse crested a small hill that gave him and the rest of his company a clear view of the massive and revolting city that was Kingslanding. "We'll be at the Keep by mid-afternoon." He called behind him to the veritable army following him. Those with him were a varied group. There were his Hill Tribesmen, all of those that had survived the skirmish with the Northern diversion, some fifteen hundred. Along with them were several Westerland Men at Arms, a much smaller group but likely more formidable on the open battlefield as a hundred heavy cavalry often are.

And beside him of course was his ever useful and sarcastic sellsword companion, Bronn. "I'll admit. I'm looking forward to a proper bed again."

"Oh come now. You had a perfectly good place to sleep in father's camp."

"A pile of straw with some cloth over it."

Tyrion chuckled. "It's a damn sight more than most get." He slowed his horse as his quite considerable force descended the hill, Lannister banner on full display so as not to worry the Goldcloaks too much. "Hmm. Perhaps we'll arrive later than mid-afternoon." He said as something he hadn't seen before came into view, though he knew full well what it was.

Outside the city walls and close to the edge of the Kingswood was an encampment. It wasn't too big, maybe housed around nine hundred or so. It was however much more orderly than any military camp he'd seen. Even compared to the Lannister cap it was a model of efficiency and fortification. Dozens of tents stood in neat blocks with a large open field at the centre with a larger tent just to the side of it. Surrounding the tents was a wide space before a low earth embankment topped with a wooden palisade and in each corner was a wooden tower. The camp even had a main gate, it too flanked by two towers.

Bronn studied the fortified area from atop his horse. "Bet that's the rest of Idolaf's lot."

Tyrion pulled his horse to a stop, the rest of the company following suit. "Oh it almost certainly is. Shagga!" He called and soon was joined by the massive Clan Leader of the Stone Crows.

"Aye, halfman?" The Tribesman asked, a hand resting on the head of the steel axe he had been given by Lannister smiths.

"Have the Stone Crows and other Tribesmen wait outside the walls. I have some business to attend to before we enter the city."

Shagga grunted his acknowledgement and trudged back to the Tribesmen, bellowing orders as he went, cajoling the men of the mountains to follow him towards the capital of the Seven Kingdoms.

With his Tribesmen dealt with Tyrion kicked his horse forward again and signalled the Men at Arms to follow him, along with Bronn.

As they got closer to the fortified camp Tyrion noticed that each of the towers had what looked like a ballista on them, along with their operator crews. The two on the towers at the gate swivelled on their axis to aim at the company of a hundred cavalry. "Who goes there?" An armoured legionary called down from atop the gate and under a small cover.

Tyrion rolled his eyes, could they not see the lion banner? "Tyrion of House Lannister and acting Hand of the King?"

The legionary didn't look convinced. "And what business do you have here, Lord Tyrion?"

"Business concerning the realm you are currently in, Imperial. I'm here to see your commander."

The legionary looked along the company of cavalry and then behind him, like he was talking to someone. Evidently he was talking to a man in heavier armour and a red cloak who pushed past him. "You're the new Hand of the King?" He too studied Tyrion's forces before making an almost imperceptible nod. "Open the gates!" He yelled out.

Below him the strong wooden gates that had been reinforced with iron bands slowly creaked open, gradually revealing the two horses being used to pull them. Nodding to the man above him with a smirk, Tyrion rode through, along with Bronn and a few of his horsemen, the rest waiting outside.

Inside the palisade was a hive of activity. Though he hadn't seen it before, the open space between the tents wasn't empty. In fact, it seemed to be currently housing a significant refugee population. All around there were peasants milling about, either working or just passing the time. A few were even being helped by legionaries to erect tents or dig ditches for waste to travel down.

"Apologies, Lord Tyrion." The caped man from above said as he approached. "A few of the lads don't know how to react to lords and the like." He was clearly a highly ranked member of the Legion, for upon closer inspection his armour was quite intricate, with patterns of dragons engraved on the cheek guards of his helmet, which was itself bore a red plume. "Centurion Augustus." He placed a closed fist on his chest, by the left breast.

"Oh don't worry about that Centurion." Tyrion assured him. "I've been dealing with barbarians for weeks so a little scepticism will hardly hurt anyone." As he talked Bronn and the Lannister men with him dismounted, a couple walking over and helping the Dwarf down from his modified saddle that allowed him to comfortably ride a warhorse. "As your man hopefully told you, I'm here to see your commander."

Augustus nodded and gestured from Tyrion to follow him. "I'll take you to the Legate."

As they walked they passed the area that was seemingly devoted to refugees and entered the actually Legion section of the camp. Here the tents were the orderly blocks Tyrion had seen earlier and most had men inside them doing all manner of things. Some were playing some sort of dice games, some were just sleeping and Tyrion couldn't help but approve when he saw several were reading from books. "Quite the operation you have here, Centurion."

"Standard procedure with the Legion, Lord Tyrion." Augustus explained as they carried on, passing a larger tent that was clearly acting as the armoury and had several legionaries standing guard around it. "Though this is small compared to what we'd usually have. This is a fifth of a full Legion."

"And what's the size of a Legion at full strength?"

"Around five thousand." Augustus replied as they came to the larger tent Tyrion had spied before. Outside the flaps of the tent were two legionaries armed with sword and shield stood at attention. "Legate's inside." Augustus said as he held a tent flap open.

Entering the Legate's own tent, he immediately saw it was well furnished. The floor was covered with a thick rug, which looked locally bought, instead of the typical Westerosi fashion of laying down a wooden decking for the tent to be then set up above. Besides the rug there were several tables, chairs and a rather cluttered desk which had a large map of Westeros and Essos upon it, with the Westeros part covered in small wooden pieces carved to match the sigil of each Great House. In the far end was a bed, or the more accurate term would be a frame with hay and a fur atop it, primitive for such a high ranking individual, Tyrion thought.

What caught his attention quicker though was the Legate. Hunched over the map with a sturdy but still decorated helm lying next to her, was a woman of clearly some advanced age. That she was a woman, Tyrion could only tell by the fact she was not wearing the helm, as her armour was thick and showed little sign of the gender of the wearer, literal breast plates would be a substantial risk after all.

"Legate Rikke." Augustus spoke up, drawing the woman's attention and giving Tyrion a good look at her face. Despite the grey hair he still couldn't call her unattractive, she had the look of a strong woman, not that he was overly surprised given her profession. "Lord Tyrion, the new Hand of the King."

Rikke stood tall and marched over. "The King's chosen a replacement for Lord Stark then?" She asked looking down at the Dwarf

"My dear nephew actually chose my father." Tyrion spoke, looking her straight in the eyes. "But seeing as he's busy on campaign, he's named me acting hand of the King until such a time as he can come to the capital himself."

Rikke slowly nodded. "Sound plan on your father's side." She walked back to the map, seemingly done with the conversation.

Tyrion however was not finished with it. "As I said. I'm the acting Hand of the King and as such I've come to see how your mission is coming along."

"With a war on we can hardly make any progress. We have a terma of cavalry still searching this Crackclaw point and the other found nothing in Duskendale or Rosby. And the third…"

"Is on its way north." Tyrion finished for her, drawing a look from the Legate. "I know, I sort of ran into them on the road. I saw to it they were given a map. I have to say I'm surprised they didn't already have one."

Rikke sighed. "We weren't able to make any copies before they were sent out. We couldn't risk their target getting too far."

Tyrion waved off the excuse. "It hardly matters now Legate. They have a map and they're on their way to the Wall. So long as they can get past the Stark Host, the Neck and half the kingdom first." He chuckled and began wandering around the tent, taking it all in. The furs didn't look like they were from any animal he had ever seen. "I saw that you're taking on refugees. Shouldn't they be within the city?"

"The _Queen Regent_ shut the gates to them. So they came to us and we took who we could. They gather their own food and clothes, we simply let them stay behind the palisade."

"Very noble of you." Tyrion stopped and studied a map of what was apparently Skyrim. "My dear sister's likely reason is they should be working the fields and not coming to her. What are your plans for them?"

Rikke crossed her arms. "Our plans?"

Tyrion rolled his eyes. "Come now. Don't tell me you're letting in hundreds of peasants and you don't have any ideas what to do with them? You could put them to work perhaps. The capital can always make use of more farmland or lumber mills."

The Legate seemed to internally debate it. "With your permission, _Lord_ Hand?"

"Of course." Tyrion smiled slightly and nodded. "With the Baratheon and Tyrell host ever so slowly making their way here we'll need all the labour we can get."

"We'll see what we can do. Lord Hand." Rikke said, still looking a little dubious about the whole thing.

"Excellent." Tyrion grinned and made for the exit of the tent, nodding slightly to Augustus who was still stood by the entrance. "I'll be off the Keep. I hear your Dragonborn is up there."

"Centurion Augustus will go with you." Rikke spoke though seemed more interested in the map and troop placements. "The King requested several men of the Legion for some project of his and I can't spare the time to go myself."

Tyrion turned back to the woman. "Of course, Legate. And I think my nephew will listen to the Centurion here over you. Meaning no offense, you understand, but here in Westeros women do not usually lead armies."

Rikke looked up and narrowed her steely eyes. "None taken, Lord Hand." She returned to the map. "Safe journey through the capital, I hear the city watch are having issues."

"I'm sure I will manage just fine, Legate." Tyrion chuckled and left the tent, with Augustus close behind him, though he quickly went off to gather some men.

"How'd it go?" Bronn asked as he fell in behind Tyrion, the small group heading back towards the gate.

"Decently enough, I suppose." Tyrion told the sellsword. "Though now we're heading to the Red Keep. My nephew must miss his uncle dearly." Though he grimaced to himself, he was not looking forward to dealing with the boy for the foreseeable future. One thing he was looking forward to however, was seeing if the tales of the so called Dragonborn had merit.

…

The ride through the city had been eventful. The people were starving and riotous and on more than one occasion his tribesmen had scuffles with the locals, only Shagga beating the perpetrators had allowed them to continue on. The starving was caused by Mace Tyrrels closing of the Rose Road. With the Riverlands afire and the Reach cut off from them as they all flocked to Renly Baratheon's banner, the two primary breadbasket regions were out of reach for the capital. As a result, the only source of food for the immense city were the fields of the Crownlands and the fisheries of the Blackwater, all in all a dire situation.

Not that you'd think that within the walls of the Red Keep. To find his nephew celebrating his nameday with a small tourney irritated him to no end. The whole realm at war and the blonde shit hosts a tourney. The only conciliation was that it was a small one, it wasn't even held in the bailey but on the walls of the Keep itself.

As he waddled towards the red canopy that hung over his royal niece and nephews he gestured for Augustus, who had accompanied them to the Red Keep along with a select few of his men, to wait before he bellowed out. "Beloved nephew!" The boy terror that was Joffrey turned to face his uncle and Tyrion noticed Trant and another of the Kingsguard dragging a man off somewhere. "We looked for you on the battlefield. But you were nowhere to be found." He said in mock concern while quickly pouring himself a goblet of wine from the table by his nephew. Looking around the company of people who surrounded the royal children he saw Sansa Stark, acting elegant and terrified as was to be expected. He also saw several of the Kingsguard, along with Sandor Clegane, who seemed to be refusing to wear the white armour. One man he didn't recognise stood just behind the royal party. From the way he was dressed and the way he stood it was abundantly clear he was a Tamrielic, though he looked more like a diplomat than a warrior.

Joffrey looked uneasy for a moment. "I-I've been busy ruling the Kingdoms."

"And what a fine job you've done." Tyrion smirked and then turned to Myrcella and Tommen, a genuine smile on his face. "Look at you." He moved forward and gave his niece a peck on the cheek, she smiled back at him. "More beautiful than ever." And she was, she looked so much like Cersei used to, only in place of a repulsive personality was a sweet one.

And then he faced Tommen. "And you…" He said in mock disbelief. "You're going to be bigger than the Hound. And much better looking." He smirked and took a gulp of wine, glancing at Bronn. "This one doesn't like me very much." He gestured to Clegane.

"Can't imagine why." Bronn remarked sarcastically.

"We heard you were dead." Joffrey stated, sounding as if he'd been denied the present he'd always wanted.

"I'm glad you're not dead." Myrcella said warmly, so unlike her mother, thank the gods.

Chuckling slightly, Tyrion looked about. "Me too dear. Death is so boring, especially with all this excitement about." He bowed his head slightly to Sansa. "My Lady I'm sorry for your loss."

Sansa opened her mouth to reply but Joffrey beat her to it. "Her loss? Her father was a confessed traitor!"

"But still her father. Surely having so recently lost your own father you can sympathise." Tyrion hissed at his nephew.

Joffrey scowled and glared at Sansa, who after a moment finally replied to Tyrion. "My father was a traitor. My mother and brothers are traitors too. I am loyal to my beloved Joffrey."

It sounded every bit rehearsed as it likely was, but Tyrion had to admire her for not faltering in it. "of course you are." He tried in a comforting voice before downing what was left of the wine in the goblet, setting it back down. "Now nephew. I'd like to introduce a few guests."

Joffrey looked at the Tribesmen and Bronn, a scowl plastering on his face. "Barbarians and sellswords? I might've known that's the company you keep uncle."

"I think your grace…" The Tamrielic finally spoke, stepping forward and pointing towards where Tyrion had asked Augustus to wait. "That they're the guests he's referring to. Augustus!" he called out.

"Oh?" Joffrey asked as the Centurion approached with his men, helms held under their arms.

They soon stopped and Augustus gave a quick nod of his head. "Centurion Augustus, your grace."

Tyrion never thought he'd see his nephew so happy unless he was torturing some poor animal. "Ah finally!" The Boy King quickly stood and began inspecting the legionaries. "It's good that you've come at last. I was worried that fool Severus hadn't sent for you for a time.

Severus, Tyrion would have to remember that name. "Got some grand plan have we, Joffrey?"

For once the blonde prick didn't seem annoyed at his uncle. "Yes, yes." He grinned eagerly. "Augustus here is going to help me form the Royal Legion of Westeros!" he exclaimed excitedly. "No more will there be liege levies in _my_ kingdoms!"

"Perhaps this is best done elsewhere, your grace." The Tamrielic diplomat opined.

"Of course, of course." Joffrey nodded quickly and waved for Augustus to follow him. "Come Centurion. There is so much to do!" The boy king cackled and began to leave. "Come Dog!" he called behind him to Sandor, who growled but began to follow his master.

Surprised at how rapidly that had taken place, Tyrion watched as his nephew tried to herd Augustus along and he couldn't help but chuckle. Regaining his focus, he turned to Myrcella and Tommen. "It seems your brother is busy now, run along."

"Yes uncle." The two answered and left, likely towards the garden or some such place, maybe even the kitchens. Sansa too left, with two Lannister guards following her, poor girl.

"The King does have wonderful siblings." The Tamrielic intoned, stepping up alongside the Dwarf. "Very sweet pair."

Tyrion agreed mentally but he saw the comment for what it was. "I don't believe we've met."

"Ah of course." The man quickly did a little bow. "Guilliman Dinontus of High Rock, Lord Hand. I serve as the Imperial expeditions resident diplomat."

"Excellent." Tyrion looked the Breton up and down again, studying his features closer. "I dreaded for a moment that I might be dealing with soldiers and little else."

The Breton chuckled. "I'm afraid I'm the only one, Lord Hand."

"I'm sure I'll manage." Tyrion chuckled back. "Before I go. Where might I find this Dragonborn of yours?"

"Severus? Oh he's likely in the Godswood."

So this Severus was the Dragonborn. "My thanks." Tyrion waved for his men to follow him as he departed.

…

In the short time Severus had been in the Red Keep he had found that the Godswood they maintained was perhaps the place he favoured most. It was a relatively peaceful and secluded garden that clearly wasn't as well attended as the rest of the extensive castle gardens. Not that Severus minded, in fact he preferred it, for it felt more like Skyrim than anywhere he'd been in the capital. He may have been a Colovian by birth and still kept to many of their customs but Skyrim had been his true home for years, there was something about the stark beauty of it that resonated with him.

Currently he was standing in front of the large and overgrown oak that apparently served as the heart tree, or the centre of the Godswood. Studying its long gnarled branches covered in vines it reminded him faintly of the Eldergleam. Kneeling next to the bottom of the wide trunk he felt for the amulet of Kynareth he kept around his neck but beneath his armour. Pulling it over his head he lay it upon some leaves and around it he lay some septims. Lowering his voice, he uttered her verse. " _Come to me, Kynareth, for without you, I might not know the mysteries of the world, and so blind and in terror, I might consume and profane the abundance of your beautiful treasures._ " It was not a proper shrine, but it would do. Picking up his amulet but leaving the coins, Severus donned it again.

After a few moments with nothing but the sound of the wind in the trees, someone spoke behind him. "Don't mean to intrude. I waited until you seemed to be done."

Looking over his shoulder, Severus saw a small man, not even four feet tall. "You're not intruding, Lord Tyrion."

The dwarf chuckled and came forward, glancing at the small pile of coins where the amulet had been. "Seem where ever I find you Tamrielics, you already know who I am."

"It's hard not to hear about the Dwarf of Casterly Rock."

"Yes I suppose it is, especially with my sweet sister around." Tyrion remarked with a hint of bitterness. "You were praying to one of your gods?" He asked, gesturing the coins and the amulet which now hung exposed from Severus's neck.

Severus nodded slightly. "Kynareth, goddess of wind and air." He fingered the amulet. "And mother of the Nords."

Tyrion raised a brow. "Forgive me, but Severus does not exactly sound like a Nordic name."

"I'm a Colovian, we are descended from the Nords who came south, we share the blood of Atmora." Severus explained. "And Kynareth is the patron deity of Whiterun, and Whiterun is my home."

"Yes, about that." Tyrion glanced around, as if looking for someone. "When I went to visit the Wall I travelled with a man called Eadric Haraldsson. It was a long journey, two weeks all told. In that time, he told me about your Second War with the Elves. I came here to find you to see if the tales he told me were true."

Severus crossed his arms. "What tales?"

"Don't play ignorant. You know I'm asking about these powers you supposedly have."

"You want me to shout? Is that it?"

Tyrion nodded. "In essence, yes. As acting Hand, I want to know what each person in this Keep is capable of. I've already seen that Elf of yours so if the Nord was speaking the truth about them then it's likely he was about you as well."

Severus sighed. "Very well. Stand back." Tyrion dutifully took several steps back, putting a fair distance between the two of them. Taking a deep breath, Severus focused on the words in his mind. Channeling his spirit, he let loose.

" ** _FEIM ZII GRON!_** " _Become Ethereal_.

Tyrion near instantly reeled back, an expression of utter shock on his face. "Wha…." The dwarf tried to speak but could not find the words.

Severus couldn't help but chuckle and crossed his translucent arms, the faint blue mist falling off of him while still under the effects of the shout. " _He was speaking the truth._ " He spoke with a voice that sounded otherworldly, as if not entirely there.

Tyrion still stood, yet to fully recover. "I… I see… that he was." He slowly nodded, the expression of shock never leaving his face.

All too son the effects of the shout ended, leaving Severus once again the whole and quite opaque mortal that he was.

The Dwarf though, apparently recovered from his shock, began pacing. "This… This changes everything." He muttered and looked Severus straight in the eyes. "The stories about your Second Great War, about the Elves, about the dragons, they're all true?"

Severus nodded, following the still pacing Lannister with his eyes. "Some are likely just tall tales but most are true, yes."

Tyrion seemed to shudder. "This is… There is much to do, far too much to do." The acting Hand began to waddle off, half speaking to himself and half speaking to Severus. "This war may be the least of our worries." He muttered ominously before leaving the gardens and leaving Severus alone with naught but the wind and trees.

* * *

 **Eadric Haraldsson - Hircine  
Skjor - Hircine  
Mystery person - Unknown  
Delvin Mallory - Nocturnal  
Unknown Champion – Meridia**

* * *

 **Chapter 19 done. Promise we'll travel to other areas in Westeros next chapter but getting Tyrion back has been nagging me for months.  
As always feel free to leave reviews.**


	20. A hunt, an arrival and an old friend

_**Wow boy it's been a while. Just go ahead and read it before disappear for another several months.**_

* * *

 _The Gift, the North, Westeros_

"Ah. Reminds you of home, doesn't it?" Njorn laughed as the snows fell around them. They had begun at dawn and showed little sign of stopping until at least sundown.

Idolaf chuckled. "If a bit more desolate." He said as he looked around at the lands surrounding them. Desolate was certainly the word to use. For leagues around there was little sign of any civilisation safe the road they had been trekking up for near on a month now.

The group of horsemen had headed straight north after leaving the Lannister army, crossing the Tridant at what the locals called the Ruby Ford and carrying on up the east side of the Green Fork, avoiding the Stark army that was on the west side. On their way, they had passed several villages, all yet untouched by the war and with the inhabitants gathering in the first autumn harvest, by the Nine the seasons were odd here.

The Neck had been more troublesome to cross. Marshlands worse than anything Hjaalmarch had to offer and maybe even contest for Blackmarsh as the shittiest place to live possible. The rivermen before the Neck had warned them to keep the road, and so they had. All the same, every night there was the feeling of being watched, that someone was there and only just out of sight.

Eventually though they had arrived at the ruined castle of Moat Cailin, the remains of the curtain wall and the crumbling towers giving the feeling of ages long passed and eons of struggle. For all their disrepair, though, they still looked formidable, not unlike the many forts that dot Skyrim. As they approached under the watchful eye of armed men, Idolaf couldn't help but imagine what the Nords and Imperials could do with this, given time and stone. It had taken some convincing for the garrison to let them through and into the rest of the North, though thankfully it seemed mentioning they were headed for the wall helped.

Beyond that were the endless moors of the North with the occasional village or farm along the Kingsroad north. Every now and then they saw castles on hilltops or other strategic position but did not stop at them, it was far easier to camp by the roadside as they were used to.

Eventually though, they entered what the locals called "the gift", an area of land owned directly by the Night's Watch, who manned the Wall. Per the map Tyrion had given him, they should arrive within the daylight hours.

"In Whiterun maybe." Njorn rolled his shoulders as the two Nords rode side by side at the head of the small column. "You Midlander's always forget the Pale. This place is lush compared to that shithole."

"Is that why you joined up with the Legion, Njorn?" Asked the third Decanii in their band, a Colovian by the name of Cassius, as he rode up to join the two. "Never heard anyone insult their place of birth as much as you."

Njorn laughed. "Ha. No, the Pale may be a shithole, but it's _our_ shithole. And I joined up for steady pay that didn't come from mining, fishing or logging."

Cassius chuckled. "How much further is it to this Wall of theirs, Battle-Born?"

"Few more leagues." Idolaf answered. "Should be there by sundown."

Cassius accepted this and the Turma continued along the Kingsroad as it snaked through the uneven and barren country of the North. By midday the moors had given way to light farmland. Every so often there was a small hamlet on the horizon, surrounded by sparse fields of livestock and little in the way of cultivated cropland.

Passing over a small hill, they first saw it. At first it seemed to be an odd cloud, straight and passing beneath the farthest landscape. But when it failed to move, it slowly dawned on them.

That was the Wall.

"By the Nine." Njorn spoke in an awed tone.

Every passing mile it loomed taller in the sky, a sheer cliff face of solid ice. A divide of grey against the white of the overcast sky. _This is the end of the world_ it seemed to say

It grew above them until they came to a hill. Atop it they could see the Wall in its true extent. If you looked West and East, you could still see it snaking off into the distance, disappearing into the clouds and mists of the cold day.

Below the Wall was their destination, Castle Black. From where they rode though, it looked like a collection of toy blocks scattered and left by children who had finished playing. It had little to no wall at all and seemed only to be little more than a slightly fortified barracks or manor to house whoever manned the great Ice monstrosity it settled against.

As the turma rode down the poorly maintained final section of the Kingsroad, the gates of the glorified barracks of the Night's Watch opened and a company of horsemen emerged, heading straight for them. Ordering the men to halt they came to a stop as the other riders approached.

The rider at their head held up his hand to order them to stop. As they did he dismounted his horse and trudged to a spot between the two groups of horsemen. Doing the same, Idolaf and Njorn and Cassius dismounted their own and approached. Getting closer he could see the man was of middling age, hair grey and worn. He wore black scale armour over black clothing and his belt held a bastard sword.

"Who comes to the Night's Watch armed for war?" The man asked, eying the Imperial standard one of the legionaries behind Idolaf held aloft. "We have no part in the wars going on down south."

"We're not here for war." Idolaf said to the man. "We're here for a fugitive and the last information we had was he was here."

The man smirked, a certain hostility behind it. "If he's here he's beyond your reach. The Watch keeps its rapers, thieves and traitors." Again, he eyed the banner. "You're from Tamriel, aren't you?"

"Aye." Idolaf nodded. "You've met Eadric Haraldsson then?"

"Oh, I've met him. Prick saved my life." The watchman replied. "You still can't get to him even if I did allow it."

"And why's that."

He frowned and gestured to the massive wall of packed ice that reflected the grey clouds above. "He's north of the Wall. Even if I did let you through the tunnel you wouldn't find him. Or make it to him without dying." He grimaced. "The cold winds are rising."

"I've no time for riddles. We came for Haraldsson, and we're going to get him back one way or another."

"What'd he do to get the likes of you after him?" The man asked, a smile spreading across his weathered face. "Ah, don't matter to me. You're one of his kind? A Nord?"

Idolaf frowned and nodded. "Aye, from Whiterun."

The man nodded slowly, stroking his stubble. "Haraldsson told me your people have undead over there. You dealt with them before?"

Idolaf raised a brow in question, where was this going? "Once at Korvanjund. Against the Draugr of the tomb."

"Hmm…" The watchman nodded again and paced a little, leaving deep footprints in the still falling snow. "If you have the experience… Look. I can't promise you when Haraldsson will be back. I can't promise you if he'll be back. But we need men, so if you and yours stay and aid us, you can have him when he returns."

Idolaf glanced behind at his men and then back at the Watchman. "I'll have to discuss it with the men. But if we do, we expect you to hand him over."

"Oh I will. Anything for the Watch." The grey haired man, stubborn conviction behind his voice.

* * *

 _Craster's Keep, The Haunted Forest, Westeros_

Eadric swung the axe down and into the piece of wood, splitting it in two in one clean strike and sending both sides tumbling to the side of the old stump he was using as a stand. They had arrived at Craster's that noon and Eadric was far from impressed with the supposed 'keep', it was merely a few wattle and daub buildings surrounded by wooden stakes arranged in such as a way as to deter only the most cowardly of chickens.

The man himself disgusted Eadric, even the most devout follower of Molag Bal would be disgusted by him. Every swing of the axe into the firewood made him think of the daughter fuckers neck.

Near Eadric and sat against one of the supports for the thatch roof that kept all the wood dry from rain and snow was Jon Snow, carefully picking off some dirt from Longclaw, the sword Mormont had given him. "You wonder what he does with his sons?" Jon asked idly, still focusing primarily on not scratching the valyrian steel, if that was even possible.

Another swing, another ** _thunk_** , another two pieces of wood tumbling to the side. "I was trying not to." Eadric replied and picked up another small log for splitting, setting it carefully on the centre of the stump. "Wouldn't be surprised is the old bastard eats them."

Jon looked up as Eadric swung down again, the load _**thunk**_ audible even for those out in the woods foraging. "The Lord Commander warned us not to call him that."

"Why? So I won't offend the bastard?"

"Aye." Jon nodded to the Nord. "Craster can make us leave anytime he wants." He returned to picking off dirt, though in truth the sword looked perfectly clean from where Eadric was.

Sighing, Eadric too returned to what he was doing, lining up another log for splitting. As he hefted the axe behind him and brought it down in another _**thunk**_ he saw Sam approaching somewhat nervously with one of Craster's daughters.

"What are you doing?" Jon asked with an audible sigh as soon as he spotted the two.

"This is Gilly." Sam began, nerves lacing his voice. "One of Craster's daughters."

Eadric rolled his eyes and Jon was far from impressed. "Hello Gilly." He said curtly to the girl. "What are you doing?" He asked Tarly again.

"Sam said you could help me." Gilly spoke hopefully. Sighing again, Eadric lowered his axe and rested it against the stump.

Jon shook his head. "I'm sorry but Sam knows we're not supposed to..."

"She's pregnant." Sam interrupted Jon who stared at him. "W-we have to take her with us when we leave."

"What?" Jon asked sharply.

"I know it sounds a bit mad." Sam said defensively.

Eadric sighed heavily. "Impossible actually."

Jon nodded at the Nord. "We can't take her with us."

"Please ser, please." Gilly tried. "I can still run if I have to."

"It doesn't matter if you can run lass." Eadric said.

"I'm going to have a baby! If it's a boy…" Gilly trailed off, as if she shouldn't have said something.

"If it's a boy what?" Jon asked. When Gilly didn't reply and instead looked around uncertain, he frowned. "You want us to risk our lives for you, and you won't even tell us why?"

The girl took a step back from Jon, concern and worry painted on her face. After a few moments, she left, quickly walking away.

Sam looked at Jon. "Why did you do that?"

"Do what, ask her a question?"

"You were mean."

Eadric groaned. "Sam." He drew Tarly's attention while Jon cooled. "If we took her with us, which we couldn't even if we did want to, what do you think would happen to her?"

Sam opened his mouth but nothing came out for a few seconds. "She… We'd protect her, right?"

"And how would we do that?" Eadric pressed. "She'd be the only thing with tits in a company of what, three hundred? Half of them are rapers. Rast is a fucking raper! What do you think they'd do to her first chance they got?" Sam opened his mouth but before he could speak, Eadric continued. "There's maybe six men here who would defend her versus hundreds, we couldn't do anything. And even if we could what would happen when we ran into this King Beyond the Wall or any group bigger than ours?"

"She…" Sam tried to find words. "She'd…"

"She'd be dead within the week if she came with us." Jon spoke up again.

Eadric nodded towards him. "Aye. I may want to gut the bastard daughter fucker but right now he's the best chance she's got. Here she only has one dangerous twat to deal with and not a hundred." He sighed. "Here." He tossed the wood axe to Sam, who caught it awkwardly. "Take that back to Grenn." He said as he trudged through the snow to the wooden palisade.

"Where are you going?" Jon asked.

"Hunting." Eadric called over his shoulder. "Going to clear my head."

…

The moons were out, both full and lighting up the snow-covered forest floor like it was dusk or dawn. Made it easy, a little too easy, Eadric thought as he calmed from the transformation back in to mortal form. He leant against one of the massive trees, panting heavily, sweat dripping in to the snow despite the temperature.

Slowly, he stood tall and looked at the elk's corpse behind him, throat ripped open by his claws and fangs. He was beginning to get tired of stalking the same prey night after night. What he'd give for a troll to show up in this forest, something that could challenge him.

No matter, he thought. Meat was meat and a kill was a kill. Bending down to the dead animal, he grabbed hold of both hind hooves and began to drag the large creature through the snow and undergrowth. It was heavier than the one he had brought down on the way to Craster's keep, but that just meant more meat for him and his without having to dig in to the supplies that he knew would run short before the trip in this wilderness was done.

Trudging through the ankle-deep snow, his naked feet began to sting, his Nord blood holding back most of the cold. It had become his custom to strip before transforming, much easier on the tailoring costs in his life and here, well, here it was necessity. To return to the camp stark bollock naked would arouse suspicion and since there wasn't the easy to access underforge where each member of the circle stored a second set of clothing this was by far the easiest, if coldest, method of doing it.

Eventually he came to the tree where he'd nestled his clothes and dropped the elk corpse. Quickly finding and retrieving his underclothes he sharply threw them on and rubbed himself to get a bit of warmth in them before pulling his green tunic over that. Belting it he carried on until he was fully clothed in cloth and chainmail. His weapons were back at the keep, under the hopefully watchful guard of Sam and Jon.

Rubbing his hands and huffing into them he approached the elk carcass again to lift it over his shoulder to carry back to the keep. Though the snapping of a twig off in the distance stopped him, and he stood, listening closely to the surroundings.

"Been hunting then?" A familiar voice asked from somewhere behind him.

His face creasing in to a smile, Eadric turned towards its source. "Skjor, you old goat." He couldn't help but laugh as he laid eyes on his shield-brother, who was leaning against the tree he'd clearly been hiding behind. "How long where you there?"

Skjor chuckled and walked over to Eadric, his metal greaves crunching against the snow and branches beneath his feat. "Long enough to find out where you put your amulet of Talos." The older man smiled and pulled the larger Nord into a bear hug. "Where in oblivion have you been, shield brother?"

"South of that bloody wall of theirs." Eadric grinned. "Only got past it a few days ago." He pulled back and looked Skjor's face over for any new scars from his time north of the wall, none by the looks of it. "And only then with a small army."

"Aye." Skjor nodded and glanced in the direction Eadric knew Craster's keep sat, causing the larger Nord to raise a brow. "I know. Part of why I'm here now."

Eadric frowned. "What are they to you?"

"Could ask you the same." Skjor trudged the elk carcass and knelt next to it, inspecting the wound, prodding a finger in to the torn neck and giving the cold blood a sniff. "They're up here to kill free folk, that's what they are to me." He looked over his shoulder up at Eadric. "You've spent time with them, you know what these crows want with the men up here."

Eadric crossed his arms and leant against the tree. "Crows? Haven't heard that one for them. Though they call the free folk wildings." Still, he frowned, this wasn't how he'd imagined their reunion would go.

Skjor grunted. "Aye, they're wild up here." He stood. "Remind me of the bandit clans back in Skyrim in some ways. More honour maybe, but still wild. They take to the wolf blood well."

"You've given some the gift then?" That was why they were both here after all, to spread the gift of Hircine in this continent, give the wolf blood to a new people and let it spread.

"A few." Skjor admitted and glanced over his shoulder, deeper in to the forest and then back to Eadric. "You'll meet some of them soon enough. What about you?"

Eadric sighed. "No. I haven't spread the gift. Too much of a risk down there if a newblood gets out of control."

Skjor let out a slight chuckle. "You mean like you did?"

"Hey." Eadric couldn't help but smile. "You threw me in to that headfirst, can't blame me for a hard transformation."

"Still…" The older man smirked and leant against another tree, causing a little snow gathered in a higher branch to fall to the forest floor. "You were worse than Farkas and that one nearly broke in to Belethor's. But aye." He gave a slight nod. "I can see how that would be a problem."

"How'd you avoid it?"

"They knew what was going to happen." Skjor replied simply. "Already seen me invoking the wolf blood."

Eadric nodded slightly and crossed his arms. "So how'd you know about the great ranging?"

"That what they're calling it? I only heard it being called a flock of crows." Skjor smirked, though it quickly fled his face as he grew solemn. "Sanguine came to me, like he did you." He paced in the snow, hand resting against the hilt of his skyforge steel sword. "Reinforcements he called it. Bah. Free folk are more like to skin any crows they find, and the crows would do the same to the free folk."

"Too much bad blood." Eadric noted with a sigh.

"Aye. Few thousand years' bloodshed on both sides." Skjor groaned. "We'd have an easier time trying to talk with a damned High Elf." He sighed heavily. "But we're here now. So, we've got to make the most of it."

"Any ideas?" Eadric asked.

Skjor glanced back down to the elk corpse. "A few." He conceded. "How about we talk over some meat?" He suggested.

Eadric chuckled. "You're the one with the steel." He gestured to Skjors skyforge steel sword and then to his belt to show his lack of one. "So, get skinning."

* * *

 **Eadric Haraldsson - Hircine  
Skjor - Hircine  
Mystery person - Unknown  
Delvin Mallory - Nocturnal  
Unknown Champion – Meridia**

* * *

 **Right… So… I've fallen behind a bit haven't I?  
To tell you all the truth. Season 6, I am ashamed to admit, took a lot of my passion out of Game of Thrones. A Song of Ice and Fire I still have a lot of love for, but the tv series… you know how I feel about that now.  
Anyway, rant over. Please leave a review if you want to, all feedback welcome.  
Not going to promise when the next chapter will be out because I'll likely miss it by several months again because I'm an idiot like that.**


	21. Important and Final Update

****Important Update****

 **I think I have a fair bit to answer for with the state all of this is in. I know this will annoy some of you but I hope you will also understand why I am doing this. As you have all likely become aware, my opinion of the show has been steadily decreasing ever since season 5 aired and I doubt many of you will be surprised when I say that season 7 did nothing to help with that. So as of now, this fic is discontinued and can be classed as abandoned and dead.**

 **Now, before you all jump on your teleporting Ironborn fleets and assault my poorly CGI-ed castle with no siege equipment, this is not the end of the story completely. Instead, this version will remain as it is, unaltered, while a new version is posted under a different name but with the same picture (I mean seriously the name is too like of Kings, Draugr and Dragons, the clear inspiration for this). Reason being primarily I wanted to take it in a different direction from the very start while maintaining this one so that people will still have it if they end up preferring it.**

 **I sincerely hope I have not annoyed too many people with this, I know some of you have been here since the very beginning in 2015. Christ I feel old. I also hope to see many of you in the new story and I cannot thank you all enough for the support you have shown me thus far.**

 ****Thank you and tara****


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